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THE

POEMS

O F

O S S I A N.

TRANSLATED

By JAMES MACPHERSON, Efq;

VOL. II.

A NEW EDITION.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR W. STRAHAN j AND T, CADEIL,
IN THE STRAND,

M DCC LXXXV.

THE

POEMS

O F

O S S I A N,

VOL. II.

A I

CONTENTS

OF THE

SECOND VOLUME.

T EM OR A, Book I. —

Pager

Book II. —

29

Book III. -

—

53

Book IV. —

.-^

75

Book V. —

97

Book VI. —

—

117

Book VII. —

—

.

139

Book VIII. —

..

.

157

CONLATH AND CUTHONA,

181

BERRATHON, —

—

191

A DISSERTATION concerning

THE

iERA OF OSSIAN,

i..

211

A DISSERTATION concerning

THE

POEMS OF OSSIAN,

—

233

A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

ON

THE

POEMS OF OSSIAN

281

TE-

T E M O R A

A N

EPIC POEM,

BOOK I.

Vol. II.

B

ARGUMENT to Book I.

Cairbar, the fon of Eorbar-duthul, lord of Atha in Con-
naught, the moft potent chief of the race of the Fii-bolg,
having murdered, at Temora the royal palace, Cormac
the fon of Artho, the young king of Ireland, ufurped the
throne. Cormac was lineally defcendcd from Conar the
fon of Trenmor, the great grandfather of Fingal, king of
thofc Caledonians who inhabited the weilern coaft of Scot-
land. Fingal refented the behaviour of Cairbar, and re-
folved to pafs over into Ireland, with an army, to re-
eftabliih the royal family on the Irilh throne. Early intel-
ligence of his defigns coming to Cairbar, he affembled fome
of his tribes in Ullter, and at the fame time ordered his bro-
ther Cathmor to follow him fpeedily with an army, from
Temora.' Such was the fituation of affairs when the Ca-
ledonian invaders appeared on the coaft of Ulftcr.

The poem opens in the morning. Cairbar is reprefented
as retired from the reil of the army, when one of his fcouts
brougiit him news of the landing of Fingal. He affembles
a council of his chiefs. Foldath the chief of Moma
haughtily dcfpifes the enemy ; and is reprimanded warmly
by Malthos. Cairbar, after hearing their debate, orders a
feaft to be prepared, to which, by his bard 011a, he in-
vites Ofcar the fon of Offian; refolving to pick a quarrel
with that hero, and fo have fome pretext for killing him.
Ofcar came to the feaft ; the quarrel happened ; the fol-
lowers of both fought, and Cairbar and Ofcar fell by mu-
tual wounds. The noife of the battle reached Fingal's
army. The king came on, to the relief of Ofcar, and the
Irifh fell back to the army of Cathmor, who was advanced
to the banks of the river Lubar, on the heath of Moilena.
Fingal, after mourning over his grandfon, ordered Ullin
the chief of his bards to carry his body to Morven, to be
there interred. Night coming on, Althan, the fon of
Conachar, relates to the king the particulars of the mur-
der of Cormac. Fillan, the fon of Fingal, is fent to ob-
ferve the motions of Cathmar by night, which concludes
the aftion of the firft day. The fcene of this book is a
plain, near the hill of Mora, which rofe on the borders
of the heath of Moilena, In Ulfter.

[ 3 ]

T E M O R A

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK I.

THE blue waves of Erin roll in light. The
mountains are covered with day. Trees
fliake their dufky heads, in the breeze. Grey
torrents pour their noify ilreams. Two green
hills, with aged oaks, furround a narrow plain.
The blue courfe of a llream is there. On its
banks ilocd Cairbar * of Atha. His fpear fupports
the king : the red eye of his fear is fad. Cor-
mac rifes in his foul, with all his ghaftly wounds.

* Cairbar, the fon of Borbar-duthul, was defcendcd li-
neally from Lathon the chief of the Firbolg, the firft colony
who fettled in the fouth of Ireland. The Gael were in pofTef-
fion of the northern coaft of that kingdom, and the firft mo-
narchs of Ireland were of their race. Hence arofe thofe dif-
ferences between the two nations, which terminated, at laft,
in the murder of Cormac, and the ufurpation of Cairbar^
lord of Atha, who is mentioned in this place.

B 2 The

4 T E M O R A : Book I.

The grey form of the youth appears in darknefs.
Blood pours from his airy fide. Cairbar thrice
threw his fpear on earth. Thrice he flroaked
his beard. His fleps are fliort. He often (lops.
He toITcs his finewy arms. He is like a cloud in
tlie defarr, varying its form to every blaft. The
valleys are fad around, and fear, by turns, the
fliov.'er! The king, at length, refumed his foul.
He took his pointed fpear. He turned his eye
to Moi-lena. The fcouts of blue ocean came.
They came with fteps of fear, and often looked
behind. Cairbar knew that the mighty were
near 1 He called his gloomy .chiefs.

The founding fteps of his warriors came.
They drew, at once, their fwords. There Mor-
lath * ilood with darkened face. Hidalla's long
hair fighs in wind. Red-haired Cormar bends
on his fpear, and rolls his fide-long-looking eyes.
Wild is the look of Malthos from beneath too

* M6r-lath, great in the day of battle. Hidalla', miUlj
looking hero. Cov-m-eir, expert at fea. ]sla.ith-os,jlczvtojpeak.
Foldath, generous.

Foldath, who is here ftrongly marked, makes a great figure
in the Tequel of the poem. His fierce, uncomplying charac-
ter is fiii'lalned tliroughout. He leems, from a pafTage in
the fecond book, to have been Cairbar's greateft confident,
and to have had a principal hand in the confpiracy againfl:
Cormac king of Ireland. His tribe was one of the moft
confiderable of the race of the Fir-bolg.

fhaggy

Book I. An EPIC POEM. 5

ihaggy brows. Foldatli (lands, like aa oozy
rock, that covers its dark fides with foam. His
fpear is like Slimora's fir, that meets the wind of
heaven. His fliield is marked with the ftrokes
of battle. His red eye defpifes danger. Thefe
and a thoufand other chiefs furroiinded the king
of Erin, when the fcout of ocean came, Mor-
annal*, from dreamy Moi-lena. His eyes hang
forward from his face. His lips are trembling,
pale !

" Do the chiefs of Erin ftand," he faid,
" filent as the grove of evening ? Stand they,
like a filent wood, and Fingal on the coaft ? Fin»
gal, who is terrible in battle, the king of Itreamy
Morven !" " Haft thou fcen the warrior ?" faid
Cairbar with a figh. " Are his heroes many
on the coaft? Lifts he the fpear of battle? Or
comes the king in peace r" " In peace he comes
not, king of Erin ! I have feen his forward fpear -f.
It is a meteor of death. The blood of thoufands

* yioT-VLnnz^^Jircng-breath; a very proper name for a fcout.

■j- Mor-annal here alludes to the particular appearance of
Fingal's fpear. If a man, upon his firft landing in a ftrange
country, kept the point of his fpear forward, it denoted in
thofe days that he came in a hoftile manner, and accordingly
he was treated as an enemy ; if he kept the point behind
him, it vras a token of friendfhip, and he was immediately
invited to the feaft, according to the hofpitaUty of thetimgs.

B 3 is

6 T E M O R A: Book I.

is on its fteel. He came firft to the fhore, ftrong
in the grey hair of age. Full rofe his linewy
limbs, as he ftrode in his might. That Iword is
by his fide, which gives no fecond * wound.
His fhield is terrible, like the bloody moon,
afcending through a florm. Then came OiTian
king of fongs. Then Morni's fon, the firft of
men. Connal leaps forward on his fpear. Der-
mid fpreads his dark-brown locks. Fillan bends
his bow, the young hunter of flreamy Moruth.
But who is that before them, like the terrible
courfe of a dream 1 It is the fon of OITian, bright
between his locks ! His long hair falls on his
back. His dark brows are half-inclofed in fteel.
His fword hangs loofe on his fide. His fpear
glitters as he moves. I fled from his terrible
eyes, king of high Temora 1"

" Then fly, thou feeble man," faid Foldath's
gloomy wrath. " Fly to the grey flreams of
thy land, fon of the little foul ! Have not I feen
that Ofcar ? I beheld the chief in war. He is of
the mighty in danger: but there are others who
lift the fpear. Erin has many fons as brave, king

* This was the famous fword of Fingal, made by Luno, a
fmith of Lochlin, and after him poetically called the Jon of
hum : it IS faid of this fword, that it killed a man at every
ftroke ; and that Fingal never ufed it but in times of the
greateft danger.

8 of

Book I. AnEPICPOEM. 7

of Temora of Groves ! Let Foldath meet him in
his ftrength. Let me flop this mighty dream.
My fpear is covered with blood. My Ihield is
like the wall of Tura !'*

" Shall Foldath * alone meet rhe foe ?" re-
plied the dark-browed Malthos. *' Are they
not on our coaft, like the waters of many
ftreams ? Are not thefe the chiefs, who van-
quifhed Swaran, when the fons of green Erin
fled ? Shall Foldath meet their braveft hero ?
Foldath of the heart of pride 1 take the flrength
of the people I and let Mahhos come. My
fword is red with {laughter, but who has heard
my words f ?"

" Sons of green Erin," faid Hidalla J, " let
not Fingal hear your words. The foe might
rejoice, and his arm be (Irong in the land. Ye
are brave, O warriors ! Ye are tempefts in war.
Ye are, like ftorms, which meet the rocks without
fear, and overturn the woods. But let us move

* The oppofite cliara(fters of Foldath and Malthos are
ftrongly marked in fubfequent parts of the poem. They ap-
pear always in oppofition. The feuds between their families^
which were the fource of their hatred to one another, are
mentioned in other poems.

t That is, who has heard my vaunting ? He intended the
expreflion as a rebuke to the feif-praife of Foldath.

X HidaUa was the chief of Clonra, a fmall diftrid on the
banks of the lake of Lego. The beauty of his perfon, his
eloquence and genius for poetry are afterwards mentioned.

B 4 in

S T E M O R A: Book!.

in our flrength, flow as a gathered cloud ! Then
fliall the mighty tremble ; the fpear fliall fall
from the hand of the valiant. We fee the cloud
of death, they will fay, while fhadows fly over
their face. Fingal will mourn in his age. He
Ihall behold his flying fame. The fteps of his
chiefs will ceafe in Morven. The mofs of years
Ihall grow in Selma."

Cairbar heard their words, in filence, like
the cloud of a fliower : it ftancs dark on Cromla,
till the lightning burfts its fide. The valley
gleams with heaven's flame j the fpirits of the
florm rejoice. So ftood the fllent king of Te-
mora; at length his words broke forth. " Spread
the feaH: on Moi-lena. Let my hundred bards
attend. Thou, red-haired Olla, take the harp
of the king. Go to Ofcar chief of fwcrds. Bid
Ofcar to our joy. To-day we feaft and hear
the fong : to-morrow break the fpears ! Tell
him that I have raifed the tomb of Cathol * ;
that bards gave his friend to the winds. Tell
him that Cairbar has heard of his fame, at the

* Cathol the fon of Maronnan, or Morr.n, was murdered
by Cairbar, for his attachment to the family of Cormac. He
had attended Ofcar to the ivar of Inis-thonay where they con-
tracted a great friendfhip for one another. Ofcar, immedi-
ately after the death of Cathol, had fent a formal challenge to
Cairbar, which he prudently declined, but conceived a fccret
hatred againft Ofcar, and had beforehand contrived to kill
him at the fcail, to which he here invites him.

fl:ream

Book I. AnEPICPOEM. 9

flream of refounding Carun *. Cathmor | my
brother is net here. He is not here v/irh his
thoufands, and our arms are weak. Cathmor
is a foe to ftrife at the feaft ! His foul is bright
as that fun ! But Cairbar muft fight with Ofcar,
chiefs of woody Temora ! His words for Cathol
were many : the wrath of Cairbar burns. He
(hall fall on Moi-lena. My fame fliall rife ia
blood."

Their, faces brightened round with joy.
They fpread over Moi-lena. The feaft of fliells
is prepared. The fongs of bards arife. The

* He alludes to the battle of Ofcar againft Caros, king of
pips ; wlio is fuppofed to be the fame with Caraufius tlie
ufurper.

f Cathmor, great in battle, the fon of Borbar-duthul, and
brother of Cairbar king of Ireland, had, before the infurrec-
tlon of the Firbolg, paffed over into Inis-huna, fuppofed to
be a part of South Britain, to affift Conmor king of that
place againft his enemies. Cathmor was faccefsful in the
war, but, In the courfe of it, Conmor was either killed, or
died a natural death. Cairbar, upon intelligence of the de-
figns of Fingal to dethrone him, had difpatched a meifenger
for Cathmor, who returned into Ireland a few days before
the opening of the poem.

Cairbar here takes advantage of his brother's abfence, to
perpetrate his ungenerous defigns againft Ofcar ; for the noble
Ipirit of Cathmor, had he been prefent, would not have per-
mitted the laws of that hofpitality^ for which he vras {o re-
nowned himfelf, to be violated. The brothers form a con-
tvaft : we do not deteft the mean foul of Cairbar more, than
we admire the dlGntereftgd and generous mind of Cathmor.

chiefs

lO

T E M O R A : Book I,

chiefs of Selma heard their joy *. We thought
that mighty Cathmor came. Cathmor the friend
of (Irangers ! the brother of red-haired Cairbar.
Their fouls were not the fame. The light of
heaven was in the bofom of Cathmor. His
towers rofe on the banks of Atha j {even paths
led to his halls. Seven chiefs ftood on the

* Finf^al's army heard the joy that was in Cairbar's camp.
The charadter given of Cathmor is agreeable to the times.
Some, through oftentation, were hofpitable ; and others fell
naturally into a cuftom handed down from their anceftors.
But what marks ftrongly the charader of Cathmor, is his
averfion to praife ; for he is reprefented to dwell in a wood to
avoid the thanks of his guefts ; which is ftill a higher degree
of generofity than that of Axylus in Homer : for the poet
does not fay, but the good man might, at the head of his
own table, have heard with pleafure the praife beftowed on
him by the peopJe he entertained.

No nation in the world carried holpitality to a greater
length than the ancient Scots. It was even infamous, for
many ages, in a man of condition, to have the door of his
houfe {hut at all, lest, as the bards exprefs it, the stran-
ger SHOULD COME AND BEHOLD HIS CONTRACTED SOUL.

Some of the chiefs were pofTefled of this hofpitable difpofition
to an extravagant degree ; and the bards, perhaps upon a
private account, never failed to recommend it, in their eulo-
"iuras. Cean uia na daV or the foitit to nuhich all the roads
of the grangers lead, was an invariable epithet given by them
to the chiefs ; on the contrary, they diftinguiihed the inho-
fpitable by the title of the cloud luhich the Jlrangers Jhun. This
laft however was fo uncommon, that in all the old poems I
have ever met with, I found but one man branded with this
ignominious appellation ; and that, perhaps, only founded
upon a private quarrel, which fubfiftcd between him and the
patron of the bard, who wrote the poem.

pathSj

Book. I. An EPIC POEM. n

paths, and called the ftranger to the feaft ! But
Cathmor dwelt in the wood^ to fhun the voice of
praife !

Olla came with his fongs, Ofcar went to
Cairbar's feaft. Three hundred warriors ftrode
along Moi-lena of the ftreams. The grey dogs
bounded on the heath : Their howling reached
afar. Fingal faw the departing hero. The foul
of the king was fad. He dreaded Cairbar's
gloomy thoughts, amid the feafl: of Ihells. My
fon raifed high the fpear of Cormac. An hun-
dred bards met him with fongs. Cairbar con-
cealed, with fmiles, the death that was dark in
his foul. The feafl is fpread. The fhells re-
found. Joy brightens the face of the hoft. But
it was like the parting beam of the fun, when he
is to hide his red head in a ftorm 1

Cairbar rifes in his arms. Darknefs ga-
thers on his brow. The hundred harps ceafe at
once. The clang * of fliiclds is heard. Far
diftant on the heath Olla raifed a fong of woe.
My fon knew the fign of death i and rifing
feized his fpear. " Ofcar," faid the dark-red

* When a chief was determined to kill a pei-fon already In
his power, it was ufual to fignify that his death was intended,
by the found of a Ihield ftruck with the blunt end of a fpear ;
at the fame time that a bard at a dillanc; raifed the death fo}ig.

Cairbar,

12

T E M O R A: Book I.

Cairbar, " I behold the fpear * of Erin. The
fpear of Temora j- glitters in thy hand, fon of
woody Morven ! It was the pride of an hun-
dred J kings. The death of heroes of old.
Yield it, fon of Ofnan, yield it to car- borne
Cairbar !"

" Shall I yield," Ofcar replied, " the gift
of Erin's injured king: the gift of fair-haired
Cormac, when Ofcar fcattered his foes ? I came
to Cormac's halls of joy, when Swaran fled from
Fingal. Gludntfs rofe in the face of youth.
He gave the fpear of Temora. Nor did he give
it to the feeble : neither to the weak in foul.
The darknefs of thy face is no ftorm to me : nor
are thine eyes the flame of death. Do I fear thy
clanging fliield ? Tremble I at Olia's fong ?
No : Cairbar, frighten the feeble : Ofcar is a
rock 1"

* Cormac, the fon of Arth, had given the fpear, which
is here the foundation of the qiuirrel, to Ofcar, when he came
to congratulate him upon Swaran's being expelled fiom
Ireland.

•j- Ti' mor-i', the houfe of the great king, the name of the
royal palace of the fupreme kings of Ireland.

\ Hundred here is an indefinite number, and is only in-
tended to exprefs a great many. It was probably the hy-
perbolical phrafes of bards, that gave the firft hint to the
iriih Scnachies to place the orip-in cf thei." monarchy in {o
remote a period as they have done.

" Wilt

Book I. An E P I C P O E M. 13

" Wilt thou not yield the fpear ?" replied
the rifing pride of Cairbar. " Are thy words fo
mighty, becaufe Fingal is near? Fingal with
aged locks, from Morven's hundred groves !
He has fought with little men. But he muft
vanifh before Cairbar, like a thin pillar of mift
before the winds of Atha*!" " Were he who
fought with little men, near Atha's haughty
chief : Atha's chief would yield green Erin to
avoid his rage ! Speak not cf the mighty, O
Cairbar 1 Turn thy fword on me. Our ftrength
is equal : but Fingal is renowned ! the firft of
mortal men !"

Their people (iiw the darkening chiefs. Their
crowding fteps are heard around. Their eyes
roll in fire. A thoufand fwords are half un-
Iheathed. Red-haired Olla raifed the fong of
battle. The trembling joy of Ofcar's foul arofe :
the wonted joy of his foul when Fingal's horn
was heard. Dark as the fwelling wave of ocean
before the rifing winds, when it bends its head
near the coafl, came on the hofl: of Cairbar !

Daughter of Tofcar f ! why that tear? He
is not fallen yet. Many were the deaths of his
arm before my hero fell !

* Atha, Jhallonv ri-ver : the name of Cairbar's feat in Con-
naught.

f Malvina, the daughter of Tofcar, to whom is addrefTed
that part of the poem whicli related to the death of Ofcar
her iover.

Behold

14 T E M O R A: Book I.

Behold they fall before my fon, like groves
in th€ defart j when an angry ghoft rufhes
through night, and takes their green heads in
his hand ! Morlath falls. Maronnan dies. Co-
nachar trembles in his blood 1 Cairbar flirinks
before Ofcar's fword I He creeps in darknefs
behind a flone. He lifts the fpear in fecret ; he
pierces my Ofcar's fide ! He falls forward on his
fhield : his knee fuftains the chief. But ftill
his fpear is in his hand. See gloomy Cairbar*
falls ! The fleel pierced his forehead, and di-
vided

* The Irifli hiftorians place the death cf Cairbar, in the
latter end of the third century : they far, he v/as killed in
battle againftOfcar the fon of Offian, but deny that he fell by
his hand.

It is, however, certain, that the Irifti bards difguife, in
fome meafure this part of their hiftory. An Irifh poem on
this fubjedt, which, undoubtedly, was the fource of their in-
formation, concerning the battle of Gabhra, where Cairbar
fell, is juft now in my hands. As a tranflation of the poem
(which, tho' evidently no very ancient compofition, does not
Want poetical merit) would extend this note to too great a
leno-th, I ihall only give the ftory of it in brief, with fome
extrafts from the original Irifli.

Ofcar, fays thelriih bard, was invited to a fea{l,atTemora,
by Cairbar king of Ireland. A difpute arofe between the
two heroes, concerning the exchange of fpears, which was
ufually made, between the guefts and their hoft, upon fuch
occafions. In the courfe of their altercation, Cairbar faid,
in a boaftful manner, that he would hunt on die hills of Al-
bion, and curry the fpoils of it into Ireland, in fpite of all the
effori:s of its inhabitants. The original v/ords are ;

Briathar

Book I. An E P I C P O E M. 15

vidcd his red hair behind. He lay, like a
Ihattercd rock, which Croinla fhakes from its
fhaggyfidej when the green-vallied Erin fhakes
its mountains, from fea to fea !

But never more lliall Ofcar rife ! He leans on
his bofly fiiield. His fpear is in his terrible
hand. Erin's fons (land diftant and dark. Their
(houts arife, like crowded ftreams. Moi-lena
echoes wide. Fingal heard the found. He
took the fpear of Selma. His fteps are before
us on the heath. He fpoke the words of woe.

Briathar buan fm ; Briathar buan
A bheireadh an Cairbre rua',
Gu tuga' fe fealg, agiis creach
A h'AtBiN an la'r na mhaireach.

Ofcar replied, that, tlie next day, he himfelf would carry
into Albion the fpoils of the five provinces of Ireland ; in
fpite of the oppofition of Cairbar.

Briathar eile an aghai' fin

A bheirea' an t' Ofcar, og, calma

Gu'n tugadh fe fealg agus creach

Do dh'ALBiN an la'r na mhaireach, &c.

Ofcar, in confequence of his threats began to lay wafte Ire-
land ; but as he returned with the fpoil into Ulfter, thro' the
narrow pafs of Gabhra (Caoilghlen Ghabhra) he was met by
Cairbar, and a battle enfued, in which both the heroes fell
by mutual wounds. The bard gives a very curious hft of the
followers of Ofcar, as they marched to battle. They appear
to have been five hundred in number, commanded, as the
poet exprefles it, by Jive heroes of the blood of kings. This
poem mentions Fingal, as arriving from Scotland, before
Ofcar died of his wounds.

« I hear

16 T E M O R A: Book 1.

" I hear the noife of war. Young Ofcar is
alone. Rife^ Tons of Morven : join the hero's
fwdrd 1"

Os3iAN rufhed along the heath. Fillan
bounded over Moi-lena. Fingal ftrode in his
flrength. The light of his fhield is terrible.
The fons of Erin faw it far diftant. They
trembled in their fouls. They knew that the
Wrath of the king arofe : and they forefaw their
death. We firft arrived. We fought. Erin's
chiefs withllood our rage. But when the king
came, in the found of his courfe, what heart of
fteel could iland 1 Erin fled over Moi-lena.
Death purfued their flight. We faw Ofcar on
his fliield. We faw his blood around. Silence
darkened every face. Each turned his back and
wept. The king ftrove to hide his tears. His
grey beard whiftled in the wind. He bends his
head above the chief. His words are mixed with
fighs.

" Art thou fallen, O Ofcar ! in the midft of
thy courfe ? the heart of the aged beats over
thee ! He fees thy coming wars ! The wars
which ought to come he fees 1 They are cut off
from thy fame ! When Ihall joy dwell at Selma ?
When fliall grief depart from Morven ? My
fons fall by degrees : Fingal is the laft of his
race. My fame begins to pafs away. Mine

age

Book I. An EPIC POEM. 17

age will be without friends. I fhall fit a grey-
cloud in my hall. I fhall not hear the return of
a fon, in his founding arms. Weep, ye heroes
of Morven ! never more fhall Ofcar rife!"

And they did weep, O Fingal 1 Dear was the
hero to their fouls. He went out to battle, and
the foes vanifhed. He returned, in peace, amidfl
their joy. No father mourned his fon flain in
youth : no brother his brother of love. They
fell, without tears, for the chief of the people is
low! Bran * is howling at his feet: gloomy
Luath is fad, for he had often led them to the
chace ; to the bounding roe of the defart 1

When Ofcar faw his friends around, his heav-
ing bread arofe. " The groans," he faid, " of
aged chiefs: The howling of my dogs: The
fudden burfts of the fong of grief, have melted
Ofcar's foul. My foul, that never melted be-
fore. It was like the fleel of my fword. Olfian,
carry me to my hills 1 Raife the ftones of my
renown. Place the horn of a deer : place my
fword by my fide. The torrent hereafter may
raife the earth: the hunter may find the fteel and
fay, " This has been Ofcar's fword, the pride
of other years !" " Failed thou, fon of my
fame ! Ihall I never fee thee, Ofcar ! When

* Bran was one of Fingal's dogs. Bran fignlfies n moun-
tain-Jlream.

Vol. II. C others

i8 T E M O R A: Book I.

others hear cf their Tons; fhall I not- hear of
thee ? The mofs is on thy four grey ftones. Th«
mournful wind is there. The battle Pnall be
fought without thee. Thou fnak not purfue the
dark-brown hinds. When the warrior returns
from battles, and tells of other lands j " I have
feen a tomb," he will fay, " by the roaring
ftream, the dark dwelling of a chief. He fell
by car-borne Ofcar, the firft of mortal men,"
I, perhaps, Ihall hear his voice. A beam of
joy will rife in my foul."

Night Would have defcended in forrow, and
morning returned in the fhadow of grief. Our
chiefs would have Hood, like cold dropping
rocks, on Moi-lena, and have forgot the war ;
did not the king difperfe his grief, and raife his
mighty voice. The chiefs, as new-wakened from
dreams, lift up their heads around.

" How long on Moi-lena fhall we weep ?
How long pour in Erin our tears? The mighty
■will not return. Ofcar fliall not rife in his
llrcngth. The valiant muft fall in their day,
and be no more known on their hills. Where are
our fathers, O warriors ! the chiefs of the times
of old ? They have fet like ftars that have fhone.
We only hear the found of their praife. But
they were renowned in their years: the terror
of other times. Thus Ihall we pafs away, in the

day

Book I. An EPIC POEMi 19

day of our fall. Then let us be renowned when
•We oiay J and leave our fame behind us, like the
laft beams of the fun, when he hides his red
head in the vjeil. The traveller mourns his
abfence, thinking of the flame of his beams.
Ullin, my aged bard! take thou the fliip of the
king. Carry Ofcar to Selma of harps. Let the
daughters of Morven weep. We mufl: fight ia
Erin, for the race of fallen Cormac. The days
of my years begin to fail. I feel the weaknefs of
my arm. My fathers bend from their clouds,
to receive their grey-hair'd fon. But, before I
go hence, one beam of fame fhall rife. My
days (ball end, as my years begun, in fame.
My life fhall be one dream of light to bards of
other times 1"

Ullin rais'd his white fails. The wind of
the fouth came forth. He bounded on the waves
toward Selma. I remained in my grief, but
my words were not heard. The feafl is fpread
on Moi-lena. An hundred heroes reared the
tomb of Cairbar. No fong is raifed over the
chief. His foul had been dark and bloody. The
bards remembered the fall of Cormac 1 what
could they fay in Cairbar's praife ?

Night came rolling down. The light of an

hundred oaks arofe. Fingal fat beneath a tree.

C a Old

ao T E M O R A : Book I.

Old Althan * flood in the midd. He told the
tale of fallen Cormac. Althan the fon of Cona-
char, the friend of car-borne Cuthullin. He
dwelt with Cormac in windy Ten:iora, when
Semo's fon fell at Lego's ftream. The tale of
Althan was mournful. The tear was in his eye,
when he fpoke.

t " The fetting fun was yellow on Dora J.
Grey evening began to defcend. Temora's
woods fhook with the blaft of the unconftant
wind. A cloud gathered in the weft. A red
ftar looked from behind its edge. I ftood in the
wood alone. I faw a ghoft on the darkening
air ! His ftride extended from hill to hill. His
ihield was dim on his fide. It was the fon of
Semo. I knew the warrior's face. But he
pafTed away in his blaft; and all was dark
around I My foul was fad. I went to the hall of
fhells. A thoufand lights arofe. The hundred
bards had ftrung the harp. Cormac ftood in

* Althan, the fon of Conachar, was the chief bard of
Arth king of Ireland. After the death of Arth, Althan
attended his fon Cormac, and was prefent at his death. He
had made his efcape from Cairbar, by the means of Cath-
mor, and coming to Fingal, related, as here, the death of
his mafter Cormac.

f Althan fpeaks.

% Doira, the ivoody Jide of a mountain ; it Is here a hill in
the neighbourhood of Temora.

5 «h«

Book I. An EPIC POEM. 21

the midil, like the morning ftar, wiien it re-
joices on the eaftern hill, and its young beams
are bathed in fhowers. Bright and filent is
its progrels alofr, but the cloud, that Hiall
hide it, is near ! The Iword of Artho * was in
the hand cf the king. He looked with joy
on its poliilied ftuds : thrice he attempted
to draw it, and thrice he failed; his yellow-
locks are fpread on his fhoulders : his cheeks of
youth are red. I mourned over the beam of
youth, for he was foon to fet !"

" Althan!" he faid, with a fmile, " didft
thou behold my father ? Heavy is the fword of
the king; furely his arm was ftrong. O that
I were like him in battle, when the rage of his
wrath arofe ! then would I have met, with
Cuthullin, the car-borne fon of Cantela ! But
years may come on, O Althan ! and my arm be
llrong. Hafl thou heard of Semo's fon, the
ruler of high Temora ? He m.ight have re-
turned with his fame. He promifed to return
to-night. My bards wait him with fongs. My
feaft is fpread in the hall of kings."

I HEARD Cormac in filencc. My tears began
to flow. I hid them with my aged locks. The
king perceived my grief. " Son of Conachar !"

* Arth, or Ariho, the father of Cormac king of Ireland.

C 3 he

«2 T E M O R A: Book I.

he faidj " is the fen of Semo * low ? Why:
burfts the figh in fecret r Why defcends the tear^
Connes the car-borne Torlath ? Comes the founci
of red-haired Cairbar ? They come! for I be-
hold thy grief. Mofly Tura's chief is low !
Shall I not rufh to battle ? But I cannot lift the
fpear ! O had mine arm the (Irength of Cuthul-
lin, foon would Cairbar fly^ the fame of my
fathers would be renewed j and the deeds of
other times !"

He took his bow. The tears flow down,
from both his fparkling eyes. Grief faddcns
round, The bards bend forward, from their
hundred harps. The lone blaft touched their
trembling firings. The found f is fad and low!
A voice is heard at a diftance, as of one in grief.
It was C:.rril of other times, who came from darl^
Slimorat. He told of the fall of Cuthullin.
He told of his mighty deeds. The people were
fcatiered round his tomb. Their arms lay on

* Cuthullin IS called the king of Tura from a cadle of that
name on the coaft of Ulfter, where he dwelt, before he iin-
dertc-ok the management of the affairs of Ireland, in the
minority of Cormac.

t That prophctif found, mentioned in other poems, which
the harps of the bards emitted before the death of a perfon
worthy and renowned. It is here an omen of the death of
Cormac, which, foon after, followed.

X Slimora, a hill in C<?nnaught, near which Cuthullin

the

BookL An epic poem. 23

the ground. They had forgot the war, for he,
their fire, was feen no more !

<* But who," faid the fofc-voiced Carril,
" who come like bounding roes ? Their ftature
16 like young trees in the valley, growing in a
fhower 1 Soft and ruddy are their cheeks ! Fear-
kfs fouls look forth from their eyes! Who but
the fons of Ufnoth *, chief of -ftreamy Etha ?
The people rife on every fide, like the ftrength
of an half-extinguifhed fire, when the winds
come, fudden, from the defart, on their ruftling
v/ings. Sudden glows the dark brow of the
hilij the paffing mariner lags, on his winds.
The found of Caithbat's f ihield was heard,

* Ufnoth chief of Etha, a diftrid on the weflern coaft of
Scotland, had three fons, Nuthos, Althos, and Ardan, by Slis-
fama the fifter of Cuthullin. The three brothers, when very
young, were fent over to Ireland by their father, to le^rn the
ufe of arms under their uncle, whofe military fame was very-
great in that kingdom. They had juft arrived in Ulfter when
the news of Cuthullin's death arrived. Nathos, the eldeft of
the three brothers, took the cojTimand of Cuthullin's army,
and made head againft Cairbar the chief of Atha. Cairbar
having, at laft, murdered young king Cormac, at Temora,
th^ army of Nathos iliifted fides, and the brothers were
tbliged to return into Ulfter, in order to pafs over intp
Scotland. The fequel of their mournful ftory is related, at
large, in the poem of Dar-thula.

t Caithbait was grandfather to Cuthullin ; and his flaield
was made ufe of to alarm his pofterity to the battles of thi
family.

C 4 The

24 T E M O R A: Book I.

The warriors faw Cuthullin * in Nathos. So
rolled his fparkling eyes ! his fteps were fuch
on heath ! Battles are fought at Lego, The
fword of Nathos prevails. Soon fhalt thou be-
hold him in thy halls, king of Temora of
groves!"

" Soon may I behold the chief!" replied the
blue-eyed king. " But my foul is fad for Cuthul-
lin. His voice was pleafant in mine ear. Often
have we moved, on Dora, to the chace of the dark-
brown hinds. His bow was unerring on the hills.
He fpoke of mighty men. He told of the deeds
of my fathers. I felt my rifing joy. But fit thou
At the feaft, O Carril ! I have often heard thy
voice. Sing in praife of Cuthullin. Sing of
Nathos of Ethat !"

Day rofe on Temora, with all the beams of
the eaft. Crathin came to the hall, the fon of
old Gellama J. " I behold," he faid, " a cloud
in the defart, king of Erin I a cloud it feemed at
nrft, but now a crowd of men ! One ftrides be-
fore them in his ftrength. His red hair flies in
wind. His fhield glitters to the beam of the call.
His fpear is in his hand." " Call him to the feaft

• That is, they faw a manifeft likenefs between the perfoa
of Nathos and Cuthullin. ^

t Nathos the fon of Ufnoth.
X GeaJ-lamha, nvhite- handed.

Book I. An EPIC POEM. 15

of Temora," replied the brightening king. " My
hall is the houfc of ftrangers, fon of generous
Gellama ! It is perhaps the chief of Etha, com-
ing in all his renown. Hail, mighty * ftranger !
art thou of the friends of Cormac ? But Carril,
he is dark, and unlovely. He draws his fword.
Is that the Ton of Ufnoth, bard of the times of
old ?"

" It is not the fon of Ufnoth !'* faid Carril.
" It is Cairbarthy foe. Why comefl: thou in thy
arms to Temora ? chief of the gloomy brow.
Let not thy fword rife againft Cormac ! Whither
doft thou turn thyfpeed?" HepafTedon in dark-
nefs. He feized the hand of the king. Corrnac
forefaw his death j the rage of his eyes arofe.
" Retire, thou chief of Atha! Nathos comes with
war. Thou art bold in Cormac's hall, for his
arm is weak." The fword entered the fide of the
king. He fell in the halls of his fathers. His
fair hair is in the duft. His blood is fmoaking
round.

" Art thou fallen in thy halls f ?" faid Carril.
«' O fon of noble Artho! The fhield of Cuthul-
lin was not near. Nor the fpear of thy father.
Mournful are the mountains of Erin, for the

* From this expreffion, we underftand, that Cairbar had en-
teredthe palace of Temora, in the midft of Cormac's fpeech.
t Althau fpeaks.

chief

26 T E M O R A: Book I.

chief of the people is low ! Blefl: be thy foul, O
Cormac ! Thou art darkened in thy youth."

His words canne to the ears of Cairbar. He
clofed * us in the midfl: of darknefs. He feared to
llretch his fword to the bards f, though his foul
was dark. Long we pined alone ! At length,
the noble Cathnnor J came. He heard our voice
from the cave. He turned the eye of his
wrath on Cairbar.

«' Brother of Cathmor," he falci, '' how
long wilt thou pain my foul ? Thy heart is a
rock. Thy thoughts are dark and bloody ! But
thou art the brother of Cathmor 3 and Cathmor
fhall ihine in thy war. But my foul is not like
thine: thou feeble hand in fight! The light of
my bofom is ftained with thy deeds. Bards will
not fing of my renown : They may fay, *' Cath-
mor was brave, but he fought for gloomy Cair-
bar." They will pafs over my tomb in filence.
Jvly fame fhall not be heard. Cairbar ! loofe

* That is, himfcif and Carrll, as it afterwards appears.

•j- The perfons of the bards were fo facred, that even he,
•\\-ho had juil murdered his fovereign, feared to kill them.

X Cathmor appears the fome difinterefted hero upon every
occafion. His humanity and generofity were unparalleled :
in fliort, he had no fault, but too much attachment to fo bad
a brother as Cairbar. His lamily connei^lion with Cairbar
prevails, as he exprelfes it, over every other confideration,
and iTia!:es him engage in <i war, of which he does not ap-.
prove.

^ the

Book!. An EPIC POEM. 27

the bards. They are the Tons of future tiirvcs.
Their voice Ihall be heard in other years j after
the kings of Tennor-a have failed. We came
forth at the words of the chief. We faw him in
Jiis (Irength. He was like thy youth, O Fingall
when thou firfl. didft lift the fpear. His face was
Jike the plain of the fun, when it is bright. No
darknefs travelled over his brow. But he came
with his thoufands to aid the red-haired Cairbar.
Now he comes to revenge his death, G king of
woody Morven !'*

" Let Cathmor come," replied the king. '* I
Jove a foe fo great. His foul is bright. His
arm is ftrong. His battles are full of fame. But
th? little foul is a vapour that hovers round the
marfliy lake. It never rifes on the green hill, left
the winds fliould meet it there. Its dwelling is
in the cave, it fends forth the dart of death !
Our young heroes, O warriors ! are like the re-
nown of our fathers. They fight in youth. They
fall. Their names are in fong. Fingal is amid
his darkening years. He muft not fall, as an
aged oak, acrofs a fecret ftream. Near it are
the fteps of the hunter, as it lies beneath the
wind. « How has that tree fallen ?" he fays,
and, whiflling, llrides along. Raife the fong
of joy, ye bards of Morven ! Let our fouls for-
get the pad, Tlie red ftars lopk on us from

clouds,

28 T E M O R A. BookL

clouds, and filently defcend. Soon fhall the
grey beam of the morning rife, and Ihew us the
foes of Cormac. Fillan ! my fon, take thou the
ijpear of the king. Go to Mora's dark-brown
fide. Let thine eyes travel over the heath. Ob-
ferve the foes of Fingal : Obferve the courfe of
generous Cathmor. I hear a diftant found, like
falling rocks in the defart. But ftrike thou thy
Ihield, at times, that they may not come thro*
night, and the fame of Morven ceafe. I begin
to be alone, my fon. I dread the fall of my re-
nown V*

The voice of bards arofe. The king leaned
on the Ihield of Trenmor. Sleep defcended on
his eyes. His future battles arofe in his dreams.
The holl are fleeping around. Dark-haired Fin-
Ian obferves the foe. His fteps are on a diftant
hill. We hear, at times, his clanging ftiield.

T E M O R A

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK II,

ARGUMENT to Book it.

This book opens, vre may fuppofe, about midnight, with di
foliloquy of Olaan, V.ho had retired, from the reft of the
army, to mourn for his fon Ofcar. Upon hearing the
noife of Cathmor's army approaching, he went to find out
his brother FiUan, who kept the watch, on the hill of
Mora, in the front cf Fingal's army. In the converfatioii
of the brothers, the epifode of Conar, the fon of Treli-
mor, who was the firft king of Ireland, is introduced,
which lays open the origin of the contefts between the
Cael and Firbolg, the two nations who firft pofTeired them-
felves of that ifiand. OfTian kindles a fire on Moi-a; upon
which Cathmor defiiled from the defign he had formed
of furprizing the army of the Caledonians. He calls a
council of Kis' chiefs ; reprimands Foldath for advifing a
night-attack, as the Irifli army were fo much fiiperior in
number to the enemy. The bard Fonar introduces the
ftory of Crothar, the anceftor of the king, which throws
further light on the hiftory cf Ireland, and the original
pretenfions of the family of Atha, to the throne of that
kingdom. The Iriih chiefs lie do\\'n to reft, and Cathmor
himfelf undertakes the watch. In his circuit, round the
army, he is met by Oftian. The interview of the two
heroes is defcribed. Cathmor obtains a promife from
OiTian, to order a funeral elegy to be fung over the grave
of Cairbar ; it being the opinion of the times, that the
fouls of the dead could not be happy, till their elegies
■were fung by a bard. Morning comes. Cathmor and
Ofllan part ; and the Litter, cafually meeting with Carri>
the fon of Kinfena, fends that bard, with a funeral fong
to the tomb of Cairbar*

t 31 ]

T :e'--M ' O R A:

■JiTj q-S^n A N

EPIC P^^O E M,

BOOK 11.

fTT^ATHER of heroes! O Trenmor! High
JL^ dweller of eddying winds I where the dark-
fed thunder marks the troubled clouds! Open
thou thy ftormy halls. Let the bards of old be
near. Let them draw near, with fongs and their
half-viewlefs harps. No dweller of mifty valley
ccmes ! No hunter unknown at his ftreams ! It
is the carborne Ofcar, from the fields of war.

• Though this book has little action, it is not the leaft im-
portant part of Tempra. The poet, in feveral epifodes, runs
up the caufe of the war to the very fource. The firft popula*
tion of Ireland, the wars between the two nations who crigi*
nally poiTeifed that ifland, its firft race of kings, and the revo-
lutions of its government, are important fai51s, and are de-
livered by the poet, with fo little mixture of the fabulous, that
one cannot help preferring his accounts to the improbable
fidions of the Scotch and Irilh hiftorians. The Milefiau
fables bear about them the marks of a late invention. To
trace their legends to their fource would be no difficult tafl: ;
but a Jifquifition of this fort would extend this note too far.

Sudden

32 T E M O R A: Book 11.

Sudden is thy change, my Ton, from what thou
were on dark Moilena! The blafl: folds thee
in its (kirt, and ruftles through the fky ! Doft
thou not behold thy father, at the ftream of
night ? The chiefs of Morven fleep far-diftant.
They have loft no fon ! But ye have loft a hero,
chiefs of refounding Morven! Who could equal
his ftrength, when battle rolled againft his fide,
like the darknefs of crowded waters ? Why this
cloud on OfTian's foul ? It ought to burn in dan-
ger. Erin is near with her hoft. The king of
Selma is alone. Alone thou ihalt not be, my
father, while I can lift the fpearl

I ROSE, in all my arms. I rofe and liftcn-
cd to the wind. The ftiield of Fillan * is

* We underftand, from the preceding book, that Cathmor
was near with an army. When Cairbar was killed, the tribes
who attended him fell back to Cathmor; who, as it after,
wards appears, had taken a refolution to furprize Fingal by-
night. Fillan was difpatched to the hill of Mora, which was
in the front of the Caledonians, to obferve the motions of
Cathmor. In this fituation were affairs when Offian, upon
hearing the noifc of the approaching enemy, went to find
out his brother. Their converfation naturally introduces the
cplfode, concerning Conar the fon of Trenmor, the firft Irifh
monarch, which is fo neceffary to the underftanding the
foundation of the rebellion and ufurpation of Cairbar and
Cathmor. Fillan was the youngeft of the fons of Fingal,
then living. He and Bofmina, mentioned in the l>ait/e of
Lora, were the only children of the king, by Clatho the
daughter of Cathulla king of Inis-tore, whom he had takea
to wife, after the death of Ros-crana, the daughter of Cormac
Mac-Conar king of Ireland.

not

Soo*:II. An EPIC POEM. 35

not heard. I tremble for the fon of FIngal.
" Why fliould the foe come by night? Why
fhould the dark-haired warrior fail ?" Diftanr,
fullen tnurmurs Hfe : like the noife of the lake
bf>Lego, when its waters fnrink, in the days of
froft, and all its burning ice refounds. The
people of Lara look to heaven, and forefee the
ftorm ! My fteps are forward on the heath. The
fpear of Ofcar in my hand ! Red ftars looked
from high. I gleamed, along the night.

I SAW Fillan filent before me, bending for-
\vard from Mora's rock. He heard the Ihout
of the foe. The joy of his foul arofe. He heard
my founding tread, and turned his lifted fpear,
" Comeft thou, fon of night, in peace ? Or doft
thou meet my wrath ? The foes of Fingal are
mine. Speak, or fear my fteel. I iland nor,
in vain, the fhield of Morven's race." " Never
mayft thou ftand in vain, fon of blue-eyed
Clatho! Fingal begins to be alone. Dark-
nefs gathers on the lafl: of his days. Yet he has
two * fons who ought to fhine in war. Who.

ought

* That Is, two fons in Ireland. Fergus, the fecond fon of
Fingal, was, at that time, on an expedition, which is men-
tioned in one of the leffer poems. He,_ according to feme
traditions, was the anceftor of Fergus, the fon of Ere or Ar-
cath, commonly called Fergus the fecond m the Scotch hifto-
ries. The beginning of the reign of Fergus over the Scots,
is placed, by the molt approved annals of Scotland, in the

Vol. II. JD tourtk

j4 T E M O R A: Book IL

ought to be two beams of light, near the fteps of
his departure."

*' Son of Fingal," replied the youth, " it is
not long fince I raifed the fpear. Few are the
marks of my fword in war. But Fillan's foul is
fire ! The chiefs of Bolga * crowd around the fliield
of generous Cathmor. Their gathering is on that
heath. Shall my fteps approach their hoft ? I
yielded to Ofcar alone, in the ftrife of the race,
on Cona !"

" FiLLAN, thou fhalt not approach their

hoft J nor fall before thy fame is known. My

name is heard in fong : when needful I advance.

From the Ikirts of night I ftiall view them over

all their gleaming tribes. Why, Fillan, didft

thou fpeak of Ofcar ! Why awake my figh ? I

muft forget t the warrior, till the ftorm is rolled

away.

fourth year of the fifth age: a full century after the death of
Offian. The genealogy of his family is recorded thus by the
Highland Senachies; Fergus Mac-Jrcath, Mac-Chongad^
Mac-Fergus, Mac-F ion-gael na buai' \ i. e. Fergus the fon of
Arcath, the fon of Congal, the fon of Fergus, the fon of
Fingal the 'viilorious. This fubjeft is treated more at large,
in the differtation annexed to the poem.

* The fouthern parts of Ireland went, for fome time,
under the name of Bolga, from the Fir-bolg or Belgce of Bri-
tain, who fettled a colony there. Bolg fignifies a quiver, from
which proceeds Fir-bolg, i. c. hcw-men; fo called from their
ui'mg bows more than any of the neighbouring nations.

-j- After this paffage, Ofcar is not mentioned in all Temora.
The fituations of the chara^^ers wko a<^ in the poem are fo in-

tercUing,

BookIL An epic POEM. 35

away. Sadnefs ought not to dwell in danger,
nor the tear in the eye of war. Our fathers for-
got their fallen fons, till the noife of arms was
paft. Then forrow returned to the tomb, and
the fong of bards arofe." The memory of thofe,
who fell, quickly followed the departure of
war: When the tumult of battle is paft, the foul,
in filence, melts away, for the dead.

CoNAR * was the brother of Trathal, firft: of
mortal men. His battles were on every coaft. A
thoufand ftreams rolled .down the blood of his foes.
His fame filkd green Erin, like a pleafant gale.

terefling, that others, foreign to the fubje^l:, could not be in-
troduced with any luftre. Though the epifode, which fol-
lows, may feem to flow naturally enough from the conver-
fation of the brothers, yet I have fhewn, in a preceding note,
and, more at large, in the diflertation annexed to this col-
leflion, that the poet had a farther defign in view,

* Conar, the firft king of Ireland, was the fon of Trenmor,
the great-grand-father of Fingal. It was on account of this
family-connedtion, that Fingal was engaged in fo many wars
in the caufe of the race of Conar. Tho' few of the aftions
of Trenmor are mentioned, he was the moft renowned name
of antiquity. The moft probable opinion concerning him
is, that he was the firft, who united the tribes of the Cale-
donians, and commanded them, in chief, againft the in-
curfions of the Romans. The genealogifts of the North
have traced his family far back, and given a lift of his an-
ceftors to Cuan-mor nan Ian, or Conmor of the fwords, who,
according to them, was the firft who croffedthe great fea, to
Caledonia, from wliich circumftance his name proceeded,
which fignifies Great ocean. Genealogies of fo ancient a date,
Jiowever, arc little to be depended upon.

D 2 Tho

S$, T E M O R A: Book IL

The nations gathered in Ullin, and they blefled
the king J the king of the race of their fathers,
from the land of Selma.

The chiefs * of the fouth were gathered, in
the darknefs of their pride. In the horrid cave
of Munna they mixed their fecret words. Thi-
ther often, they faid, the fpirits of their fathers
cannci fhewing their pale forms from the chinky
rocks: reminding them of the honor of Bolga.
" Why fhould Conar reign," they faid, " the
fon of refounding Morven ?"

They came forth, like the ftreams of the de-
fart, with the roar of their hundred tribes. Conar
was a rock before them : broken they rolled on
every fide. But often they returned, and the
fons of Selma fell. The king ftood, among the
tombs of his warriors. He darkly bent his
mournful face. His foul was rolled into itfclf :
and he had marked the place, where he was to
fall J when Trathal came, in his Itrength, his
brother from cloudy Morven. Nor did he come

* The chiefs of the Fir-bolg who poffefFed themfelves of
the fouth of Ireland, prior, perhaps, to the fcttlement of the
Cael of Ciiledonia, and the Hebrides, in Ulfter. From the
fequel, it appears that the Fir-bolg were, by much, the moll
powerful nation; and it is probable that the Gael muft have
fubmitted to them, had they not received fuccours from their
mother-couatry, under the command of Conar.

alone.

Book II. An E P I C P O E M. 37

alone. Colgar * was at his fide j Colgar the
fon of the king and of white-bofomed Solin-
corma.

As Trenmor, cloathed with meteors, defcends
from the halls of thunder, pouring the dark
ftorm before him over the troubled fea : fo Col-
t^ar defcended to battle, and wafted the echoing
field. His father rejoiced over the hero : but an
arrow came ! His tomb was raifed, without a
tear. The king was to revenge his fon. He
lightened forward in battle, till Bolga yielded at
her ftreams !

When peace returned to the land : When
his blue waves bore the king to Morven : then
he remembered his fon, and poured the filent
tear. Thrice did the bards, at the cave of Fur-
mono, call the foul of Colgar. They called him
to the hills of his land. He heard them in his
mift. Trathal placed his fword in the cave, that
the fpirit of his fon ipight rejoice,

* Colg-er, fiercely -looking 'warrior, Sulin-corma, blue eyes.
Colgcr was the eldcft of the fens of Trathal : Comhal, who
was die father of Fingal, was very young when the prefent
expedition to Irehmd happened. It is remarkable, that, of
all the anceftors of Fingal, tradition makes the leail mentiou
of Comhal ; which, probably, proceeded from the unfortu-
nate life and untimely death of that hero. From fome paffa-
ges, concerning him, we learn, indeed, that he was brave,
but he wanted conducT:.

D 3 " Colgar,

38 T E M O R A: Book !!•

« CoLGAR*, Ton cf Trathal!" faid Fillan^
" thou were renowned in youth ! But the king
hath not marked my fword, bright-ftreaming on
the field. I go forth with the crowd. I return,
without my fame. But the foe approaches,
Offian ! I hear their murmur on the heath. The
found of their fleps is like thunder, in the bofom
of the ground, when the rocking hills fhake their
groves, and not a blaft pours from the darkened
fl:y !"

OssiAN turned fudden on his fpear. He
raifed the flame of an oak on high. I fpread it
large, on Mora's wind. Cathmor ftopt in his
courfe.. Gleaming he flood, like a rock, oa
whofe fides are the wandering of blaflsj whicl^
feize its echoing flreams, and clothe them over
with ice. So flood the friend t of flrangers I
The winds lift his heavy locks. Thou art the
talleft of the race of Erin, king of ftreamy Atha I

* The poem bcp^ins here to mark ftrongly the chara6:er of
nUan, who is to make fo great a figure in the fequcl. He
has the impatience, the anihition and fire which are pecu-
liar to a young hero. Kindled with the fame of Colgar,
he forgets his untimely fall. From Fillan's exprefflons in
this paflage, It would feem, that he was negleded by Fingal,
on account of his youth.

f Cathmor is diftinguifhed, by this honourable title, on
account of his generofity to ftrangers, which was fo great as
10 be remark;ible even in thofc da}s of hofpitality.

y First

Book II. An E P I C P O E M. 39

" First of bards," faid Cathmor, " Fonar*,
call the chiefs of Erin. Call red-hair'd Cormar ;
dark-browed Malthos : the fide-long-looking
gloom of Maronan. Let the pride of Foldath ap-
pear. The red rolling eye of Turlotho. Nor let
Kidalla be forgotj his voice, in danger, is the
found of a Ihower, when it falls in the blafted
vale, near Atha's falling flream. Pleafant is
its found, on the plain, whilft broken thunder
travels over the fky !"

,They came, in their clanging arms. They
bent forward to his voice, as if a fpirit of their
fathers fpoke from a cloud of night. Dreadful
Ihone they to the light j like the fall of the
llream of Brumof, when the meteor lights it,
before the nightly ftranger. Shuddering, he
ftops in his journey, and looks up for- the beam
of the morn !

* Fonary the man offong. Before the introduftion of Chrift*
ianity a name was not impofedupon any perfon, till he had
diftingullhed himfclfby fome remarkable adtion, from which
his name ihould he derived.

f Brumo was a place of worfhip (Fing. b. 6.) in Craca,
which is fuppofed lo be one of the ifles of Shetland, It was
thought, hat the fpirits of the decehfed haunted it, by night,
which adds more terror to the defcriptlon introduced here.
The horrid circle of Brumo, ivhereofUn, they faid, the ghofs of
the dead komled round the fl one of fear,

D 4 " Why-

40 T E M O R A: Book: 11.

It Why * delights Foldath," faid the king,
" to pour the blood of foes by night ? Fails his
arm in battle, in the beanos of day ? Few are the
foes before us, why Ihould we clothe us in fhades?
The valiant delight to fhine, in the battles of
their land ! Thy counfcl was in vain, chief of
Moma! The eyes of Morven do not fleep. They
are watchful, as eagles, on their mofly rocks. Let
each colled, beneath his cloud, the flrength of
his roaring tribe. To-morrow I move, in light,
to meet the foes of Bolga? Mighty j- was he,
that is low, the race of Borbar-Duthul I"

*^ Not unmarked !" faid Foldath, *« were my
fleps before thy race. In light, I met the foes of
Cairbar. The warrior praifed my deeds. But his
Hone was raifed without a tear ? No bard J fung
over Erin's king. Shall his foes rejoice along
their mofly hills ? No : they muft not rejoice I
He was the friend of Foldath ! Our words were
mixed, in fecret, in Moma's filent cavej whilft

* From this paffiige, it appears, that it was Foldath who
had advifed the night-attack. The gloomy charafter of Fol-
dath is properly contrafted to the generous, the open Cathmor.

f By this exclamation Cathmor intimates that he intends
to revenge the death of his brother Cairbar.

X To have no funeral elegy fung over his tomb, was,
aniong the Celts, reckoned the greateft misfortune that
could befal a man ; as his foul could not otherwife be ad-
mitted to the airy hall of his fathers^

thouj

BookII. An epic POEM/ 4t

thou, a boy in the field, purfuedft the thiftle's
beard. With Moma's fons I Ihall rufh abroad,
apd find the foe, on his dufky hills. Fingal fhall
Jie, without his fong, the grey-haired king of
Selma."

*' Dost thou think, thou feeble man," re-
plied Cathmor, half-enraged : '« Doft thou think
Fingal can fall, without his fame, in Erin ? Could
the bards be filent at the tomb of Selma's king ?
The fong would burfl in fecret ! the fpirit of the
king would rejoice ! It is when thou fhalt fall,
that the bard Ihall forget the fong. Thou arc
dark, chief of Moma, though thine arm is a,
temped in war. Do I forget the king of Erin,
in his narrow houfe ? My foul is not loft to Cair-
bar, the brother of my love ! I marked the
bright beams of joy, which travelled over his
cloudy mind, when I returned, with fame, to
Atha of the ftreams."

Tall they removed, beneath the words of the
king. Each to his own dark tribe; where,
humming, they rolled on the heath, faint-glit-
tering to the ftars : like waves, in a rocky bay,
before the nightly wind. Beneath an oak, lay
the chief of Atha. His (hield, a dufky round,
}iung high. Near him, againft a rock, leaned

the

44. T E M O R A: BooKir;

the fair ftranger * of Inis-huna: that beam
of light, with wandering locks, from Lumdn
of the roes. At diftance rofe the voice of
Fonar, with the deeds of the days of old.
The fong fails, at times, in Lubar's growing
roar !

« Crothar -f," begun the bard, « firft dwelt
at Atha's moffy ftream ! A rhoufand J oaks,
from the mountains, formed his echoing hall.
The gathering of the people was there, around
the feaft of the blue-eyed king. But who,
among his chiefs, was like the ftately Crothar ?
Warriors kindled in his prefence. The young

Tigh

* By the JiroMger of Jn'u-huna, is meant Sulmalla, the
daughter of Conmor king of Inis-huna, the ancient name of
that part of South Britain, which is next to the Irifh coaft.
She had followed Cathmor in difguife. Her ftory is related
at large in the fourth book.

t Crothar was the anceftor of Cathmor, and the firft of
his family, who had fettled in Atha. It was, in his time,
that the firfl wars were kindled between the Fir-bolg and
Cael. The propriety of the epifode is evident ; as the conteft
V'hich originally rofe between Crothar and Conar, fubfifted
afterwards between their pofterity, and was the foundation
of the ftory of the poem.

X From this circumftance we may learn, that the art of
building with ftone was not known in Ireland fo early as the
days of Crothar. When the colony were long fettled in the
country, the arts of civil life began to increafe among them^

for

Book II. An EPIC POEM. 43

figh of the virgins rofe. In Alnecma * was
the warrior honoured: the firfl: of the race of
Bolga.

" He piirfued the chace in Ullin : on the
mofs-covered top of Drumardo, From the
wood looked the daughter of Cathmin, the
blue- rolling eye of Con-lama. Her figh rofe in
fecret. She bent her head, midft her wander-
ing locks. The moon looked in, at night,
and faw the white-tofTing of her armsj for fhe
thought of the mighty Crothar, in the feafon of
dreams.

for we find mention made of the toivers of Jtha in the time of
Cathmor, which couJd not well be applied to wooden build-
ings. In Caledonia they begun very early to build with ftone.
None of the houfes of Fingal, excepting Ti-foirmal, were of
wood, Ti-foirm;d was the great hall where the bards met
^o repeat their compofitions annually, before they fubmitted
them to the judgment of the king in Sclraa. By fome acci-
dent or other, this wooden houfe happened to be burnt, and
an ancient bard, in the charafler of Offian, has left us a cu-
rious catalogue of the furniture which it contained. The
ppem is not juft now in my hands, otherwife I would lay
here a tranflation of it before the reader. It has little poeti-
cal merit, and evidently bears the marks of a later period.

* Alnecma, or Alnecmacht, was the ancient name of
Connaught. Ullin is ftill the Irifli name of the province of
Ulfler. To avoid the multiplying of notes, I Ihall here o-ive
the fignification of the names in this epifode. Drumardo
i>igh ridge. Cathmin, calm in battle. Con-lamha, /oft hand.
^Turloch, man of the ^uiytr, Cormul, Hue eye,

" Thre^

44 T E M O R A: Book IL

f' Three days feafted Crothar with Cath-
min. On the fourth they awaked the hinds.'
Con-lama moved to the chace, with all" her
lovely fteps. She met Crothar in the narrow
path. The bow fell, at once, from her hand.
She turned her face away, and half-hid it with
her locks. The love of Crothar rofe. He
brought the white-bofomed maid to Atha. Bards
raifed the fong in her prefence. Joy dwelt
round the daughter of Cathmin.

*' The pride of Turloch rofe, a youth who loved
the white-handed Con-lama. He came, with battle,
to Alnecmai to Atha of the roes. Cormul went
forth to the ftrife, the brother of car-borne Cro-
thar. He went forth, but he fell. The figh of
his people rofe. Silent and tall, acrofs the
llream, came the darkening ftrength of Crothar:
he rolled the foe from Alnecma. He returned,
midft the joy of Con-lama.

*' Battle on battle comes. Blood is poured
on blood. The tombs of the valiant rife. Erin's
clouds are hung round with ghofts. The chiefs
of the fouth gathered round the echoing Ihield
of Crothar. He came, with death, to the paths
of the foe. The virgins wept, by the ftreams
of Ullin. They looked to the mill of the hill:
No hunter defcended from its folds. Silence

darkened

Book II. An EPIC POEM. 45

darkened in the land. Blafts fighed lonely on
grafly tombs.

" Descending like the eagle of heaven, with
all his ruftling wings, when he forfakes the
blaft, with joy, the fon of Trenmor camej Co-
nar, arm of death, from Morven of the groves.
He poured his might along green Erin. Death
dimly ftrode behind his fword. The fons of
Bolga fled, from his courfe, as from a ftream,
that burfting from the flormy defart, rolls the
fields together, with all their echoing woods.
Crothar * met him in battle: but Alnecma's
warriors fled. The king of Atha flowly retired,
in the grief of his foul. He, afterwards, Ihone
in the fouth ; but dim as the fun of Autumn -,
when he vifits, in his robes of mi ft, Lara of

* The delicacy here, with regard to Crothar, is proper.
As he was the anceflor of Cathmor, to whom the epifode is
addrefled, the bard foftens his defeat, by only mentioning
that his j)eo/>le Jied. Cathmor took the fong of Fonar in an
unfavourable light. The bards, being of the order of the
Druids, who pretended to a foreknowledge of events, were
fuppofed to have fome fupernatural prefcience of futurity.
The king thought, that the choice of Fonar's fong proceed-
ed, from his forefeeing the unfortunate iffue of the war ; and
that his own fate was Ihadowed out, in that of his ancellor
Crothar. The attitude of the bard, after die reprimand of
his patron, is piclurefque and affecting. We admire the
fpeech of Cathmor, but lament the efFeft it has on the feeling
foul of the good old poet.

dark

if^ T £ M O R At BoOKin

dark ftreams. The withered grafs is covered
with dew : the field, tho' bright, is fad !**

«' Wpiy wakes the bard before me," faid
Cathmor, " the memory of thofe who fled ? Has
feme ghoft, from his dulky cloud, bent forward
to thine ear; to frighten Cathmor from the
field, with the tales of old ? Dwellers of the
Jkirts of night, your voice is but a blaft to me j
which takes the grey thiflle's head, and ftrews
its beard on ftreams. Within my bofom is a
voice. Others hear it not. His foul forbids the
king of Erin to fhrink back from war.'*

Abashed the bard finks back in night: re-
tired he bends above a ftream. His thoughts
are on the days of Atha, when Cathmor heard
his fong with joy. His tears come rolling dowa*
The winds are in his beard. Erin fleeps
around. No fleep comes down on Cathmor's
eyes. Dark, in his foul, he faw the fpirit of
low-laid Cairbar. He faw him, without his
fong, rolled in a blaft of night. He rofe. His
fteps were round the hoft. He ftruck, at times,
his echoing ftiield. The found reached Oflian's
ear, on Mora's mofify brow.

« FiLLAN," I faid, '* the foes advance. I
hear the ftiield of war. Stand thou in the nar-
row path. OfTian ftiall mark their courfe. If
I over

PookII. An epic POEM. 47

over my fall the hofl. Ihould pourj then be thy
buckler heard. Awake the king on his heath,
left his fame fhould fly away." I ftrode in all
my rattling arms; wide-bounding over a ftream
that darkly -winded, in the field, before the king
of Atha. Green Atha's king, with lifted fpear,
came forward on my courfe. Now would we
have mixed in horrid fray, like two contending
ghofts, that bending forward, from two clouds,
fend forth the roaring winds; did not Offian
behold, on high, the helmet of Erin's kings.
The Eagle's wing fpread above it, ruftiing in
the breeze. A red flar looked thro' the plumes.
I ftopt the lifted fpear.

« The helmet of kings is before me ! Who
art thou, fon of night ? Shall Gifian's fpear be
renowned, when thou art lowly-laid? At once
he dropt the gleaming lance. Growing before
me feemed the form. He ftretched his hand in
night. He fpoke the words of kings.

** Friend of the fpirits of heroes, do I meet
thee thus in fhades ? I have wifhed for thy
(lately fteps in Atha, in the days of joy. Why
(hould my fpear now arife ? The fun mufl behold
us, Oflian; when we bend, gleaming, in the
ftrife. Future warriors fhall mark the place:
and, fhuddering, think of other years. They

iiiall

4S T E M O R A; Bookll*

ihall mark it, like the haunt of gholls, pleafant
and dreadful to the foul."

*' Shall it then be forgot," I faid, " wherd
we nneet in peace ? Is the remennbrance of
battles always pleafant to the foul ? Do not we
behold, with joy, the place where our fathers
feafted ? But our eyes are full of tears, on the
fields of their war. This ftone fhall rife, with
all its mofs, and fpeak to other years. " Here
Cathmor and OfTian met : the warriors met in
peace 1" When thou, O ftone, fhalt fail. When
Lu bar's ftream fhall roll away! then fhall the
traveller come, and bend here, perhaps, in refl.
When the darkened moon is rolled over his
head, our fhadowy forms may come, and, mix-
ing with his dreams, remind him of this place.
But why turneft thou fo dark away, fon of Bor*
bar-duthul * V

*' Not forgot, fon of Fingal, fhall we
afcend thefe winds. Our deeds are flreams oi^
light, before the eyes of bards. But darknefs
is rolled on Atha : the king is low, without his

* Borbar'duthul, thefurly'iKarriorofthedark-hro'wneyeSk
That his name fuited well with ]iis chai'ader, we may eafily
conceive, from the ftory delivered concerning him, by Mal-
thos, toward the end of the fixth book. He was the brother
of that Colculla, who is mentioned in the epifode which be-
gins the fourth book.

fongj

Book II. An EPIC POEM. 49

fong : ftill there was a beam towards Cathmor
from his ftormy foul ; like the moon, in a cloud>
amidft the dark-red courfe of thunder."

" Son of Erin," I replied, « my wrath dwells
not in his earth *i My hatred flies, on eagle*
wing, from the foe that is low. He (hall hear
the fong of bards. Cairbar fhall rejoice on his
windSk"

Cathmor 's fwelling foul arofe. He took
the dagger from his fide j and placed it gleam-
ing in my hand. He placed it, in my hand,
with fighs, and, filent, ftrode away. Mine
eyes followed his departure. He dimly gleamed,
like the form of a ghoft, which meets a traveller,
by night, on the dark-Ikirted heath. His words
are dark like fongs of old : with morning ftrides
the unfinilhed Ihade away I

f Who comes from Lubar's vale ? From the
(kirtsofthe morning mift ? The drops of hea-
ven

* This reply abounds with the fentlments of a noble mind.
Tho', of all men I'ving, he was the moft injured by Cairbar,
yet he lays afide his rage as the foe luas low. How different
is this from the behaviour of the heroes of other ancient
poems ? CjKthius aurem -vellit.

f The morning of the fecond day, from the opening of
the poem comes on. After the death of CuthuUin, Carril,
the fon of Kinfena, his bard, retired to the cave of Tura,
which was In the neighbourhood of Moi-lena, the fcene of the
poem of Temora. His cafual appearance here enables Oflian

Vou II. E to

50 T E M O R A: Book II.

ven are on his head. His fleps are in the paths
of the fad. It is Carril of other times. He
comes from Tura's filem' cave. I behold it dark
in the rock, thro' the thin folds of mift. There,
perhaps, Cuthuliin fits, on the blall which bends
its trees. Pleafant is the fong of the morning
from the bard of Erin !

" The waves crowd away," faid Carril,
** They crowd away for fear. They hear the
found of thy coming forth, O fun ! Terrible is
thy beauty, fon of heaven, when death is de-
fcending on thy locks : when thou roUeft thy
vapours before thee, over the blafted holr. But
pleafant is thy beam to the hunter, fitting by
the rock in a florm, when thou fnewell thyfclf
from the parted cloudj and brightened his dewy
locks : he looks down on the ftreamy vale, and
beholds the defcent of roes ! How long Ihalt
thou rife on war, and roll, a bloody fhield, thro*
heaven ? I fee the deaths of heroes, dark-wan-
dering over thy face !"

" Why wander the words of Carril ?" I faid.
" Does the fon of heaven mourn ? He is un-
flained in his courfe, ever rejoicing in his fire.

to fulfil immediately the promife he had made to Cathmor,
of caufmg \\ift funeral fong to be pronounced ovei- the tomb of
Cairbar, This book takes up only the fpace of a few hours.

5 Roll

Book. II. An EPIC POEM. 51

Roll on, thou carclefs light. Thou too, per-
haps, muft fall. Thy darkening hour may
feize thee, ftruggling, as thou roUeft through
thy fky. But pleafant is the voice of the bard :
pleafant to Offian's foul ! It is like the fhower
of the morning, when it comes through the
ruftling vale, on which the fun looks thro' miflr,
jult rifing from his rocks. But this is no time,
O bard! to fit dov;n, at the ftrife of fong. Fin-
gal is in arms on the vale. Thou feed the
flaming fliield of the king. His face darkens
between his locks. He beholds the wide rolling:
of Erin. Does not Carril behold thac tomb,
befide the roaring ftrcam ? Three ftones life
their grey heads, beneath a bending oak. A king
is lowly laid ! Give thou his foul to the wind.
He is the brother of Cathmor ! Open his airy
hall 1 Let thy fong be a ftream of joy to Cair-
bar*s darkened ghoft 1"

E 2

T E M O R A

AN

EPIC POEM.

BOOK III.

E3

ARGUMENT to Book III.

Morning coming on, Finga!, after a fpeech to his people,
devolves the command on Gaul, the fon of Momi ; it

I Being the jcuftom of the times, that the king fliould not en-
gage, till the neceflity of affairs required his fiiperior valour
and condudl. The king and Olfian retire to the rock of
Cormul, which overlooked the field of battle. The bards
fmg the war-fong. The gfeneral conHift is defcribed.
Gaul, the fon of Momi, diftingulflics himfelf ; kills Tur-
lathon, chief of Moruth, and other chiefs of lelfer name.
On tjie ether hand, Foldath, who commanded the Irilh
army (fcr Gifthmor, aft-er the erample of Fingal, kept
himfelf from battle) fights gallantly ; kills Connal, chief of
Dun-lora, and advances to engage Gaul himfelf. Gaul,
in the mean time, being wounded in the hand, by a ran-
dom arrow, is covered by Fillan, the fon of Fingal, who
performs prodigies of valour. Mght comes on. The
horn of Fingal recalls his army. The bards meet them,
with a congratulatory fong, in which the praifes of Gaul
and Fillan are particularly celebrated. The chiefs fit
down at afeaft; Fingal mifles Connal. The epifode of
Connal and Duth-caronii introduced; which tlirows fur-
ther light on the ancient hiftory of Ireland. Carrll is dif-
patched to ralfe the toi-nb of Connal. The a<5lion of this
book takes up the fecond day, from the opening of the
poem.

[ 55 ]

T E M O R A

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK III.

HO is that, at blue-flreaming Lub.ir ?
Who, by the bending hill of roes ?
Tall, he leans on an oak torn from high, by
nightly winds. Who but Comhal's fon, bright-
ening in the laft of his fields ? His grey hair
is on the breeze. He half undieaths the fvvord
of Luno. His eyes are turned to Moi-lena, to
the dark moving of foes. Doft thou hear the voice
of the king? It is like the burfting of a ftream,
in the defart, when it comes, between its echo-
ing rocks, to the blafted field of the fun !

** WiDE-SKiRTED comes down the foe !
Sons of woody Selma, arife ! Be ye like the
rocks of our land, on whofe brown fides are the
rolling of dreams. A beam of joy comes on
my foul. I fee the foe mighty before me. It is
E 4 when

$6 T E M O R A: Book III,

when HE is feeble, that the fighs of Fingal arc
heard : left death Ihould come without renown^
and darknefs dwell on his tomb. Who fhall
lead the war, againft the hoft of Alnecma ? It is,
only when danger grows, that my fword Ihall
fhine. Such was the cuftom, heretofore, of
Trenmor the ruler of v/inds ! and thus defcended
to battle the blue-fhielded Trathal I

The chiefs bend toward the king. Each
darkly feems to claim the war. They tell, by
halves, their mighty deeds. They turn their
eyes on Erin, But far before the reft the fon of
Morni ftands. Silent he ftands, for who had
not heard of the battles of Gaul ? They rofe
within his foul. His hand, in fecret, feized the
fword. The fword which he brought from
Strumon, when the ftrength of Morni failed *.

On

* Simmon, Jiream of the hill, the name of t^ie feat of the
family of Gaii), in the neighbourhood of Selma. Durinfj
Giiul's expedition to Tromathon, mentioned in the poem of
Oithona, Morni his father died. Morni ordered the fword of
Strumon, (which had been preferved, in the family, as a re-
lique, from the days of Colgach, the moft renowned of his
anceftors) to be laid by his fide, in the tomb : at the fame
time, leaving it in charge to iiis fon, not to take it from
thence, till he was reduced to the lalt extremity. Not long
after, two of his brothers being flain, in battle, by Colda-
ronnan, chief of Clutha, Gaul went to his father's tomb t<?
take the fword. His addrefs to the fpirit of the deceafed hero,
js the fubjeft of tlie following fhort poem.
' Gaul.

Book III. An EPIC POEM. 57

On his fpear leans Fillan of Selma*, in the
wandering of" his locks. Thrice he raifes his eyes

to

Gaul.

" Breaker of echoing fliiekis, wliofe head is deep in
lliadcs ; hear me fi-om the darknefs of Clora, O fon of Col-
gach, hear !

" No ruftling, like the eagle's wing, comes over the courfe
of my ftreams. Deep bofomed in the midft of the defart,
O king of Strumon, hear !

" Dwelleft thou in the fhadowy breeze, that pours its
dark wave over the grafs ? Ceafe to ftrew the beard of the
thiftlc ; O chief of Clora, hear !

" Or rideft thou on a beam, amidfl; the dark trouble of
clouds ? Pourell thou the loud wind on feas, to roll their
^lue waves over ifles ? hear me, father of Gaul ; amidft thj-
terrors, hear !

" The ruftling of eagles is heard, the murmuring oaks
Hiake their heads on the hills : dreadful and pleafant is thy
approach, friend of the dwelling of heroes.

M o R N I.

*• Who awakes me, in the midft of my cloud, -where my
^ocks of mift fpread on the winds ? Mixed with the noife of
jftreams, why rifes the voice of Gaul ?
Gaul.

" My foes are around me, Mornl : their dark fhips de-
fend from their waves. Give the fvvord of Strumon, that
beam which thou hideft in thy night.

M O R N I.

" Take the fword of refounding Strumon ; I look on thy
ivar, my fon ; I look, a dim meteor, from my cloud : bluc-
lliicldcd Gaul, deftroy."

• Clatho was the daughter of Cathulla, king of Iniftore.
jFingal, in one of his expeditions to that ifland, fell in love

with.

58 T E M O R A: Book III,

to Fingal : his voice thrice fails him, as he fpeaks.
My brother could not boaH: of battles : at once
he ftrides away. Bent over a diftant flream he
ftands : the tear hangs in his eye. He ftrikes,
at times, the thiftle's head, with his inverted
fpear. Nor is he unfeen of Fingal. Sidelong
he beholds his fon. He beholds him, with
turiling joyj and turns, amid his crowded foul.
In filence turns the king toward Mora of woods.
He hides the big tear v;ith his locks. At length
his voice is heard.

" First of the fons of Morni ! Thou rock
that defied the dorm ! Lead thou my battle, for
the race of low-laid Cormac. No boy's ftaff is
thy fpear: no harmlefs beam of light thy fword.
Son of Morni of deeds, behold the foe ! De-
ftroy ! Fillan, obferve the chief! He is not calm
in Itrife : nor burns he, heedlefs, in battle. My
fon, obferve the chief! He is ilrong as Lubar's
dream, but never foams and roars. High on
cloudy Mora, Fingal fhall behold the war.
Stand, OfTian *, near thy father, by the falling

with CLi-tho, and took her to wife, after the death of Ros-
crana, the daughter of Conn ;jc, king of Ireland.

Clatho '.vas the mother of Ryno, Fillan, and Bofmina,
mentioned in \\\t battle of Lora. Fillan is often called th«
Ton of Clatho, to diRinguifli him fiom thofe fons which Fin-
$,.1] had by Ros-crana.

* Ullin being fent to rviorven v/ith the body cf Ofoar, Of-
fiar. atiends his fa her, in qualify of chief tard.

ftreann,

Book III. Am EPIC POEM. 59

ftream. Raife the voice, O bards ! Selma, move
beneath the found. Ic is my latter field. Clothe
it over with light."

As the fudden rifing of winds; or diftant
rolling of troubled feas, when fome dark ghofl,
in wrath heaves the billows over an ifle : an
ifle, the feat of mift, on the deep, for many dark-
brown years ! So terrible is the found of the hod,
wide-moving over the field. Gaul is tall before
them. The dreams glitter within his llrides.
The bards raife the fong by his fide. He flrikes
his fliield between. On the fkirts of the blaft,
the tuneful voices rife.

" On Crona," faid the bards, " there burfts a
llream by night. It fwells in its own dark
courfe, till morning's early beam. Then comes
it white from the hill, with the rocks and their
hundred groves. Far be my fleps from Crona.
Death is tumbling there. Be ye a ftream from
Mora, fons of cloudy Morven !"

" Who rifes, from his car, on Clutha? The
hills are troubled before the king ! The dark
woods echo round, and lighten at his flieel. See
him, amidft the foe, like Colgach's * fportful

ghoft:

* There are fome tradition?, but, I believe, of late inven-
tion, that tliis Colgach v/as the fame with the Galgacus of
Tacitus. He was the anceftor of Gaul, the Ion of Morni, and
apj)ears, from fome, really a;icient, traditions, to have been

king,

6o T E M O R A. Book III.

ghoft : when he fcatters the clouds, and rides
:the eddying winds 1 It is Morni * of bounding
fteeds ! Be like thy father, O Gaul !"

« Selma is opened wide. Bards take the
trembling harps. Ten youths bear the oak of
the feaft. A diftant fun- beam marks the hill.
The dulky waves of the blaft fly over the fields
of grafs. Why art thou filent, O Selma? The
king returns with all his fame. Did not the
battle roar; yet peaceful is his brow ? It roared,
and Fingal overcame. Be like thy father, Q
Fillan 1"

They move beneath the fong. High wave
their arms, as rufhy fields, beneath autumnal

king, orVergobret, of the Caledonians; and hence proceeded
the pretenfions of the family of Morni to the throne, which
created a good deal of difturbance, both to Comhal and his
fen Fingal. The firft w^s killed in battle by that tribe; and
it was after Fingal was grown up, that they were reduced to
obedience. Colgach £\gmfits fiercely -looking; which is a very
proper name for a warrior, and is probably the origin of Gal-
gacus; though I believe it a matter of mere conjecture, that
the Colgach here mentioned was the fame with that hero, I
cannot help obferving, that the fong of the bards is con-
ducted with propriety. Gaul, whofe experience might have
rendered his conduft cautious in war, has the example of his
father, juil rulhing to battle, fet before his eyes. Fillan, on
the other hand, whofe youth might make him impetuous
and unguarded in action, is put in mind of the fedate and
fercne behaviour of Fingal upon like occafions.

* The expedition of Morni to Clutha, alluded to here, is
iianJcu dowa in traditio::,

6 winds.

Book III. An EPIC POEM, ^i

winds. On Mora ftands the king in arms. Mift:
flies round his buckler abroad; as, aloft, it
hung on a bough, on Comnul's mofly rock. In
filencel flood by Fingal, and turned my eyes
on Gromla's^- wood : left I fiiould behold the
hofl, and irufli^ amid my fwelling foul. My foot
is forward on the heath, I glittered, tall, in
fleel : like the falling ftream of Tromo, which
nightly winds bind over with ice. The boy fees
it, on high, gleaming to the early beam : to-
ward it he turns his ear, and wonders why it is
fo filent I , .

Nor bent over a ftream is Cathmor, like a
youth in a. peaceful field. Wide he drew for-
ward the war, a dark and troubled wave. But
when he beheld Fingal on Mora; his generous
pride arofe, " Shall the chief of Atha fight, and
no king in the field ? Foldath lead my people
forth. Thou art a beam of fire."

Forth iffues Foldath of Moma, like a
cloud, the robe of ghofts. He drew his fword,
a flame, from his fide. He bade the battle move.
The tribes, like ridgy waves, dark pour their
ftrength around. Haughty is his firide before

• The mountain Cromla was in the nsighbourhood of the
fcenc of this poem ; which was nearly the fame with that of
Fingal .

them.

62 T E M O R A: Book III,

them. His red eye rolls in wrath. He call*
Cormul chief of Dunratho * j and his words
were heard.

" Cormul, thou beholdeft that path. It
winds green behind the foe. Place thy peopl©
there j left Selrna fhould efcape from my fword.
Bards of green-valleyed Erin, lee no voice of
yours arife. The fons of Morven muft fall
without fong. They are the foes of Cairbar.
Hereafter fhall the traveller meet their dark,
thick mift on Lena, where it wanders, with their
ghofts, befide the reedy lake. Never Ihall they
rife, without fong, to the dwelling of winds.'*

Cormul darkened, as he went. Behind him
rulhed his tribe. They funk beyond the rock.
Gaul fpoke to Fillan of Selma; as his eye pur-
fued the courfe of the dark-eyed chief of Dun-
ratho. " Thou beholdeft the fteps of Cormul !
Let thine arm be ftrong ! When he is low, fon

* Dun-ratho, a hill, nuith a plain on its top. Corm-uil,
blue eye. Foldath difpatches here, Cormul to lie in ambulli
behind the army of the Caledonians. This fpeech fuits with
the chara<5ler of Foldath, which is, throughout, haughty
and prefumptuous. Towards the latter end of this fpeech, we
find the opinion of the times, concerning the unhappinefs of
the fouls of thofe who were buried without the funeral fong.
This dodtrine was inculcated by the bards, to make their or-
der refpeftaWe aad neceflary.

of

Book III. An EPIC POEM. 6j

of Fingal, remember Gaul in war. Here I
fall forward into battle, amid the ridge of
fhields."

The fign of death afcends : the dreadful
found of Morni's fhield. Gaul pours his voice
between. Fingal rifes on Mora. He faw them,
from wing to v.'ing, bending at once in (Irife,
Gleaming, on his own dark hill, flood Cathmor
of ftreamy Atha. The kings were like two, fpi-:
rits of heaven, {landing each on his gloomv
clouds when they pour abroad the winds, and
lift the roaring feas. The blue-tumbling of
waves is before them, marked with the paths of
whales. They themfclves are calm and bright.
The gale lifts flowly their locks of mift !

What beam of light Ivmgs high in air!
What beam, but Morni's dreadful fword ! Death
is ftrewed on thy paths, O Gaul ! Thou foldefc
them together in thy rage. Like a young oak
falls Tur-lathon*, with his branches -ound
him. His high-bofoa;ed fpoufe Ilretches her
white arms, in dream;;, to the returnino- chief
as (he fleeps by gurgling Moruth, in her dif-
ordered locks. It is his ghoU, Oichoma. The

* Tur-lathon, hroad-trunk of a tree. Moruth, greet flreaT):.
Oichaoma, miU maid. Dnn-lora, the hill of the noi/y Jtream.
Duth-caron, dark-Lrci^;}! man.

chief

«4 T E M O R A: Booi: III.

chief is lowly laid. Hearken not to the winds
for Turlathon's echoing fhield. It is pierced,
by his ftreams. Its found is paft away.

Not peaceful is the hand of Foldath, He
vrinds his courfe in blood. Connal met him in
fight. They mixed their clanging Heel. Why
ihould mine eyes behold them ! Connal, thy
locks are grey \ Thou wert the friend of ftran-
gers, at the mofs-covered rock of Dun-lora.
"When the fkies were rolled together: then thy
feaft was fpread. The ftranger heard the winds
without i and rejoiced at thy burning oak. "Why,
fon of Duth-caron, art thou laid in blood ! The
blafted tree bends above thee. Thy fhield lies
broken near. Thy blood mixes with the ftreams
thou breaker of the fliields !

OssiAN took the fpear, in his wrath, Birt
Gaul rufhed forward on Foldath. The feeble
pafs by his fide : his rage is turned on Moma's
chief. Now they had raifed their deathful
fpears: unfeen an arrow came. It pierced the
hand of Gaul. His fteel fell founding to earth.
Young Fillan came*, with Cormul's Ihield ! He

* Fillan had been difpatched by Gaul to oppofe Cormul,
who had been feut by Foldath to lie in ambulh behind the
Caledonian army. It appears that Fillan had killed Cor-
mul, otherwlfe, he could not be fuppofcd to have pofTeiFed
himfelf of the Ihield of that chief.

ftretched

Book III. An EPIC POEM. 6$

ftretched it large before the chief. Eoldath fent
his fhouts abroad, and kindled all the field: as
a blafl: that lifts the wide-winged flame over
Lumon's echoing groves*.

" Son of blue-eyed Clatho," faid Gaul, " O
Fillan! thou art a beana from heaven; that,
coming on the troubled deep, binds up the
tempeft's wing. Cormul is fallen before thee.
Early art thou in the fame of thy fathers. Rufli
not too far, my hero. I cannot lift the fpear to
aid. I ftand harmlefs in battle : but my voice
Ihall be poured abroad. The Tons of Selma
Ihall hear, and reniember my former deeds."

His terrible voice rofe on the wind. Th«
hoft bends forward in fight. Often had they
heard him, at Strumon, when he called them
to the chace of the hinds. He (lands tall, amid
the war* as an oak in the fkirts of a ftorm, which
now is clothed on high, in m,i(t : then fliews its
broad, waving head. The mufing hunter lifts
his eye, from his own ruihy field !

My foul purfues thee, O Fillan 1 through the
path of thy fame. Thou rolledft the foe before
thee. Now Foldath, perhaps, may fly: but
jnight comes down with its clouds, Cathmor's
horn is heard on high. The fons of Selma hear

* Lumon, bending hill; a mountain in Inls-liuna, ortliat
part of South-Britain -vvliich is over-againfl tkc Irilli coaft.

Vol. II. F the

6S T E M O R A : BoaK \th

the voice of Fingal, from Moi-a's gathered mifl.
The bards pour their fong, like dew, on the-
returning war.

" Who comes from Strumon," they faid,
" amid her wandering locks ? She is mournful
in her (ieps, and lifts her blue eyes toward Erin,
Why art thou fad, Evir-choma*? Who is like
thy chief in renown? He defcended dreadful to
battle J he returns, like a light from a cloud.
He raifed the fword in v/rath : they flirunk be-
fore blue-lliielded Gaul !

" Joy, like the ruftling gale, comes on the
foul of the king. He remembers the battles of
old; the days, wherein his fathers fought. The
days of old return on Fingal's mind, as he be-
holds the renown of his fon. As the fun rejoices,
from his cloud, over the tree his beams have
raifed, as it (hakes its lonely head on the heath 5
fo joyful is the king over Fillan !

«■• As the rolling of thunder on hills, when
Lara's fields are Hill and dark, fuch are the fteps
of Selma pleafant and dreadful to the ear. They
return with their found, like eagles to their dark-
browed rock, after the prey is torn on the field,
the dun fons of the bounding hind. Your fa-

* Evir-cJboama, mild and Jiatdy maid, the wile of Gaul.
She was the daughter of Cafdu-ccnglafs, cWef of I-.dronlo,
•ne of the Hebrides.

thers

SookIII. An epic poem. €^

thers rejoice from their clouds, fons of flireamy
Selma!"

Such was the nightly voice of bards, on Mora
of the hinds. A flame rofe, from an hundred
oaks, which winds had torn from Cormul'^ ftccp.
The feafl.- is fpread in the midft: around far the
gleaming chiefs. Fingal is there in his flrength.
the eagle-wing * of his helmet founds. The
ruftling blafts of the wefl:, unequal rufh through
night. Long looks the king in filence round;
at length, his words are heard.

*' My foul feels a want in our joy. I behold
a breach among my friends. The head of one
tree is low. The fqualiy wind pours in on
Selma. Where is the chief of Dun-lora ? Ouglit
Connal to be forgot at the feaft ? When did he
forget the (Iranger, in the midft of his echoing
hall ? Ye are filent in my prefence ! Connal is
then no more, Joy meet thee, O warrior ! like a
flream of light. Swifc be thy courfe to thy fa-
thers, along the roaring winds ! Ufllan, thy foul
is fire: kindle the memory of the king. Awake
the battles of Connal, when firft: he fhone in
war. The locks of Connal were grey* His days

* The kings of Caledonia and Ireland had a plume of
eagle's feathers, by way of ornament, in their helmets. It
was from this diftinguilhed mark that OIBan knew Cath*
inor, iu the fecond book.

Fa of

^8 T E M O R A: Book lit.

of youth * were mixed with mine. In one day
Duthcaron firft ftrung our bows, againft: the roe»
of Dun-Iora.

" Many," I faid, " are our paths to battle,
in green vallied Erin. Often did our fails arife,
over the blue tumbling waves j when we came,
in other days, to aid the race of Conar. The
ftrife roared once in Alnecma, at the foam-
covered ftreams of Duth-uia-f-. With Cormac
defcended to battle Duthcaron from cloudy
Selma. Nor defcended Duthcaron alone, his fon
was by his fide, the long-haired youth of Connal
lifting the firft of his fpears. Thou didlt com-
mand them, O Fingal ! to aid the king of Erin.

*' Like the burfting flrength of ocean, the fons
ofBolga ruflied to svar. Colc-uUaJ was before

* After the death of Con'hiil, and during the ufarpatiou
<5f the tribe of Morni, Fingal was ed\icated in private by
Duthcaron. It was then he contraded that intimacy with
Connal, the fon of Duthcaron, wliicJi occahons his regret-
ting fo much his fall. When FingaJ was grown up, he foon
reduced the tribe of Morni ; and, as it appears from the fub-
fcquent epifode, icnt Duthcaron and his fon Connal to the
aid of Cormac, the fon of Conar, king of Ireland, who was
driven to the lift extremity, by the infurredions of the Fir-
bolg. This epifode dirows farther hght on the contefts be-
tween the Caol and Firbolg.

f Duth-ula, a river iu Connaught ; it fignifies, dark-ruping
'water.

X Colc-ulla, frm look in rtadinefs ; he was the brother of
BorlKir-duthul, the father of Cairbar and Cathmor, who after
the death of Cormac, iJie fon of Ariho, fuccefilvcly mounted
fcbc li'iih tlirone.

them,

Book III. An EnC POEM. 69

them, the chief of blue-ftreaming Atha. The
battle was mixed on the plain. Cormac * flionc
in his own ftrife, bright as the forms of his fa-
thers. But, far before the reft, Duthcaron
hewed down the foe. Nor (lept the arm of Con-
nal by his father's fide. Colc-uUa prevailed on
the plain: like fcattered mift, fled the people of
Cormac f,

" Then rofe the fword of Duthcaron, and
the fteel of broad-Hiieldcd Connal. They (liaded

* Cormac, the Ton of Conar, the fccond king of Ireland^
r£ the race of the Caledonians. This infurredion of the Fir-
holg happened towards the hitter end of the long reiga of
Cormac. He never ^oflellcd the Irifh throne peaceably.
The party of the family of Atha had made feveral attempts
to ovciturn the fucceffion in the race of Conar, before they
clFcfted it, in the m.inority of Cormac, the fon of Artho.
Ireland, from the moft ancient accounts concerning it,
fcems to have been always fo didiirbed by domeftic commo-
lions, that it is difficult to f;iy, whether it ever was, for any
length of time, fubjedr to one monarch. It is certain, that
f very province, if not every fmall diftria, had its 0"\,vn king.
One of thefe petty princes affamed, at times, the title of
king of Ireland, and, on account of his fuperior force, or ia
cafes of public danger, was acknowledged by the reft as
fuch; but the fucceffion, from father to fop, does not appear
to have been eftablifhed. It was the divifiops amongll
thcmfclvco, arifing from the bad conftitution ot their govern-
ment, that, at laft, fubje(5ted the Irifh to a foreign yoke.

f Tlie inhabitants of Ullin or Ulfter, who were of the race
of the Caledonians, fcem, alone, to have been the firm friends
to the fucccflion in the family of Conar. The Firbolg were
only fubjetfb to them by conflraint, and embraced every op-
portunity to throw off their yoke.

F 3 their

70' T E M O R A : Book III,

their flying friends, like two rocks with their
heads of pine. Night came down on Duth-ula:
lllent ftrode the chiefs over the field. A moun-
tam-'ftream roared acrofs the path, nor could
Duthcaron bound over its courfe." " Why (lands
my father ?'* faid Connal. " I hear the rufliing
foe." -

" Fly, Connal," he faid. " Thy father's
flrength begins to fai). I come wounded from
battle. Here let me reft in night." " But thou
fhalt npt remain alone," laid Connal's burfting
figh. " My fhield is an eagle's wing to cover the
king of Dun-lora." He bends dark above his
father. The mighty Duthcaron dies.

Day rofe, and night returned. No lonely
bard appeared, deep-mufing on the heath: and
could Connal leave the tomb of his father, till
he fhould receive his fame ? He bent the bow
againft the rofe of Duth-ula. He fpread the
lonely feaft. Seven nights he laid his head on
the tomb, and faw his father in his dreams. He
faw him rolled, dark, in a biaft, like the vapor
of reedy Lego. At length the fteps of * Colgan
came, the bard of high Temora. Duthcaron

received

* Colgan, the fon of Cathmul, was the principal bard of
Cormac, king of Ireland. The following dialogue, on the
loves cf ringal and Ros-crana, may be alcribed to him :

Ros-

Book III. An E P I C POEM. 71

received his fame, and brightened, as he rofe on
the wind.

ROS-CRANA.

By night, came a dream to Ros-crina I I feel my beating
foul. No viliou of tlie forms of the dead came to the blue
eyes of Erin. But, rifing from the wa:ve of the north, I be-"
held him bright in his locks. I beheld the fon.of tlje king.
My beating foul is high. I laid my head down in night ;
again afccndcd the form. Why delayell thou thy coming,
young rider of ftormy waves !

But, there, far-diftant, he comes ; where feas roll their
^reen ridges in mill ! Young dweller of my foul ; why dofl
thou delay —

FiNGAL.

It was the foft voice of Moi-lena ! the pleafant breeze of the
valley of roes ! But why dofl: thou hide thee in Ihades ? Young
love of heroes rife. Are not thy fteps covered with light ? In
thy groves thou appeareft, Ros-crana, like the fun in the
gathering of clouds. Why doft thou hide thee in Ihades ?
Young love of heroes rife.

Ros-crana.

My fluttering foul is high ! Let me turn from the fteps of
the king. He has heard my fecret voice, and Ihall my blue
eyes roll in his prefence ? Roe of the hill of mofs, toward
thy dwelling I move. Meet me, ye breezes of Mora! as I
move through the valley of winds. But why lliould he afcend.
his ocean ? Son of heroes, my foul is thine ! My fteps fhall
not move to the defart : the light of Ros-crana is here.

FiNGAL.

It was the light tread of a ghoft, the fair dweller of eddying
winds. Why deceiveft thou me, with thy voice: Here let:
me reft Jn (hades. Shouldft thou ftretch thy white arm from
thy grove, thou fun-beam of Cormac of Erin !

RoS-CRANA.

He is gone ! and my blue eyes are dim ; faint-roliing, Jn
all my tears. But, there, I behold him, alone ; king of Sel-
ma, my foul is thine. Ah me! what clanging of armour!
Colc-ulla gf Atha is near !

F 4 " Plia-

72 T E M O R A: Book III.

^* Pleasant to the ear," faid Fingal, " is the
praife of the kings of men ; when their bows arc
{Irong in battle ; when they foften at the fight of
the fad. Thus let my name be renowned, when
b^rds fhall lighten my rifing fpul. Carril, fon
of Kinfena ! take the bards and raife a tomb. To-
night let Connal dwell within his narrow houfe.
Let not the foul of the valiant wander on the
winds. Faint glimmers the moon on Moi-lena,
through the broad -headed groves of the hill!
Raife ftones, beneath its beam, to all the fallen
in war. Though no chiefs were they, yet their
hands were ftrong in fight. They were my rock
in danger. The mountain from which I fpread
my eagle-wings. Thence am I renowned. Car-*
ril forget not the low 1"

Loud, at once, from the hundred bards, rofc
the fong of the tomb. Carril ilrode before them,
they are the murmur of flreams behind his fleps.
Silence dwells in the vales of Mpi-Iena, where
each, with its own dark rill, is winding between
the hills. I heard the voice of the bards, leffen-
ing, as they moved along. 1 leaned forward
from my fhiekli and felt the kindling of my
foul. Half-formed, the words of my fong burll
forth upon the wind. So hears a tree, on the
vale, the voice of fpring around. It pours its
green leaves to the fun. It (hakes its lonely

head.

Book III. Am EPIC POEM. 73

head. The hum of the mountain bee is near it 5
the hunter fees it, with joy, from the blafted
heath.

Young Fillan at a diftance flood. His hel-
met lay glittering on the ground. His dark
hair is loofe to the blaft. A beam of light is
Clatho's fon ! He heard the words of the king,
with joy. He leaned forward on his fpear.

" My fon>" faid car-borne Fingal; « I faw
thy deeds, and my foul was glad. The fame of
our fathers, I faid, burfts from its gathering
cloud. Thou art brave, fon of Clatho ! but
headlong in the ftrife. So did not Fingal ad-
vance, though he never feared a foe. Let thy
people be a ridge behind. They are thy ftrength
in the field. Then fhalt thou be long renowned,
and behold the tombs of the old. The memory of
the pail: returns, my deeds in other years : whe.ti
firft I defcended from ocean on the grcen-
yalleyed ifle."

We bend towards the voice of the kino-. The
moon looks abroad from her cloud. The grey-
J>jrted mift is near : the dwelling of the ghofts 1

r E M O R A

AN

EPIC POEM,

O O K IV.

ARGUMENT to Bock IV.

The feccnd night continues. Fingal relates, at the feaft, his
own firft expedition into Ireland, and his marriage vith
Ros-crana, the daugh'Lcr of Cormac, king of that ifland.
•The Irifh chiefs convene ia tlie-prcfcnce of Cathmor. The
fituation of the king defcribed. The ftcry of Sul-ma!a,
the daughter of Conmor, king of Inis-huna, who, in the
clifgui^e of a yQung warrior, had foiiov>ed Cathmor to the
war. The Allien hehaviour of Foldath, who had corn-
rnanded in the battle of tiie preceding day, renews the
difference between him and Malthos; but Cathmor, inter-
pofing, ends it. The chiefs feaft, and hear the fong of
Fonar the bard. Cathmor returns to reft, at a diftance
from the army. The glioft of his Krothei-'Cairbar appears
to him in a dream; and obfcurely foretcls the Iftiie of the
war. The foliloquy of the king. Kc difcovers Sul-
paaJJa. Moruing cc^mcs. Her foliloquy clofes the book.

[ 77 1

T E M O R A:

A N

EPIC POEM.
BOOK IV.

* « T>ENEATH an oak/' fald the king,
J3 " I fat on Selma's ftreamy rock^
when Connal rofe, from the fea,- with the
broken fpear of Duth-caron. Far-diftant flood
the youth. He turned away his eyes. He
remembered the fteps of his father, on his own
green hills. I darkened in my place. Dufky
thoughts flew over my foul. The kings of
Erin rofe before me. I half-unflieathed the

* This cpifode has an immediate connexion with the ftory
of Connal and Duth-caron, in the hitter end of the third book.
Fingal, fitting beneath an oak, near the palace of Selma,
difcoA'crs Connal juft landing from Ireland. The danger
which threatened Cormac king of Ireland induces him to fail
immediately to that ifland- The ftory is introduced, by the
icing, as a pattern for the {"uture behaviour of Fillan, whofe
ralbuefs in the preceding battle is reprimanded.

fvvord.

78 T E M O R A : feooK IV.

fword. Slowly approached the chiefs. They
lifted up their filent eyes. Like a ridge of
clouds, they wait for the burfting forth of my
voice. My voice was, to them, a wind from
heaven to roll the mift away.

" I BADE my white fails to rife, before the
roar of Cona's wind. Three hundred youths
looked, from their waves, on Fmgal's bofTy
ihield. High on the mall it hung, and marked
the dark-blue fea. But when night came downj
I ftruck, at times, the warning bofs : I ftruck,
and looked on high, for tiery-haired Ul-erin *.
Nor abfent was the ftar of heaven. It travelled
red between the clouds. I purfued the lovely
beam, on the faint-gleaming deep. With
morning, Erin rofe in mift. We came into the
bay of Moi-lena, where its blue waters tumbled^
in the bofom of echoing woods. J^ere Cor-
mac, in his fecret hall, avoids the ftrength of
Colc-ulla. Nor he alone avoids the foe. The
blue eye of Ros-crana is there : Ros-crana f,
white-handed-maid, the daughter of the king 1

« Grey,

* Ul-erin, the guide to Ireland, a (lar known by that name
in the days of Fingal, and very ufefu! to thole who Tailed,
by night, from the Hebrides, or Caledonia, to the coaft of
Ulllcr.

f Yio%-zvhi7iy the beam of the rifmg fun ', flic was. the mother

of OlTiun. The Irilh bards relate Itrauge fiftions concerning

6 this

Book IV. An EPIC POEM. 75

- " Grey, on his pointlefs fpear, came fortli
the aged fteps of Cormac. He fmiled, from
his waving locks J but grief was in his foul.
He faw us few before him, and his figh arofe.
*' I fee the arms of Trenmor, *<hefaid;" and
thefe are the fteps of the king ! Fingal ! thou
art a beam of light to Cormac's darkened foul.
Early is thy fame, my fen : but ftrong are the
foes of Erin. They are like the roar offtreams
in the land, fon of car-borne Comhal !" " Yet
they may be rolled * away," I faid in my rifing
foul. " We are not of the race of the feeble,
king of blue-fhielded hofts ! Why fhould fear
come amongft us, like a ghoft of night ? The
foul of the valiant grows, when foes increafe in
the field'. Roll no darknefs, king of Erin, on
the young in war !"

" The burfting tears of the king came down.
He feized my hand in filence. " Race of the
daring Trenmor!" at length he faid, " I roll
no cloud before tliee. Thou burneft in the fire

this princefs. Their ftories, hov/ever, concerning Fingal, if
they mean him by Fion Mac-Comnal, are fo inconliftent and
Hotorioufly fabulous, that they do not deferve to be men-
tioned; for they evidently bear, alcng -with them, the marks
of late invention.

* Cormac had faid that the fees were like the roar offireams,
and Fingal continues the metaphor. The Ipeech of the youno-
hero is fpirited, and confiftent with that iedate' intrepidity^
^hicli cmincatly dTiillngullhes his character tiiroughout.

of

to T E M O R A: Boojc I?.

of thy fathers. I behold thy fame. It marks
thy courfc in battle, like a dream of light. Bot
wait the coming of Cairbar*, my fon mull
join thy fword. He calls the fons of Erin, froitv
all their diftant ftreams."

'^ We came to the hall of the king, where k
rofe in the midft of rocks, on whofe dark fides
were the marks of ftreams of old. Broad oaks
bend around with their rnofs. The thick birch
is waving near. Half-hid, in her (hady grove,
Ros-crana raifcs the fong. Her white hands
move on the harp. I beheld her blue- rolling
eyes. She was like a fpirit f of heaven half-
folded in the fkirt of a cloud 1"

" Three

* Cairbar, the fon of Cormac, was aftenvards king of
Ireland. His reign was ftiort. He v^as fucceeded by his
fon Artho, the father of that Cormac who was murdered bj--
Cairbar the fon of Borbar-duthul. Cairbar, the fon of Cor-
mac, long after his fon Artho was grown tO man's eftatc,
had, by his vnfe Bcltanno, another fon, whofe name was
Ferad-artho. He Avas the only one I'emaining of the race of
Conar the firft king of Ireland,, when Fingars expedition
againft Cairbar the fon of Eorl);u--diitlml happened. See
more of Ferad-artho in the cightli book.

f The attitude of Ros-crnna is illuftrated by this fimilij
for the ideas of thofe times, concerning the fpirits of the de-
ceafed, were not fo gloomy and difagreeablc, as thofe of fuc-
cecding ages. The fpirits of women, it was fuppofed, retained
that beauty, which they pofleffed while living, and tranf-
ported themfclves, from place to place, with that gliding
motion, which Homer afcribes to the gods. The defcriptions

■vvhlont

SookIV. An epic POEM. 8l

" Three days we feaft at Moi-Iena. She
riles bright in my troubled foul. Gormac be-
held me dark. He gave the white-bofomed
maid. She comes with bending eye, amid the
wandering of her heavy locks. She came !
Straight the battle roared. Colc-ulla appeared :
I took my fpear. My fword rofe, with my
people, againfl: the ridgy foe. Alnecma fled*
Colc-ulla fell. Fingal returned with fame/'

" Renowned is he, O Fillan 1 who fights, in
the ftrength of his hofb. The bard purfues his

■uhich poets, !efs ancient than Offian, have left us of thofe
beautiful figures, that appeared fometimes on the hills, are
elegant and pifturefque. They compare them to the rairt-
houo on Jlreams ; or, the gilding of fun -be ami on the hills,

A chief who hved three centuries ago, returning from the
war, underftood that his wife or miftrcfs was dead. A bard
introduces him fpeaking the following foliloquy, when he
came within fight of the place, where he had left her, at
liis departure :

" My foul darkens in forrow. I behold not the fmoak of
iny hall. No grey^iog bounds at my ftreams. Silence dwells
in the valley of trees.

" Is that a rain-bow on Crunath ? It flies : and the flcy Is
dark. Again, thou moveft, bright, on the heath, thou fun.
beam cloathed in a fhower 1 Hah ! it is Ihc, my love ! her
gliding courfe on the bofom of winds !"

In fucceeding times the beauty of Ros-crana pafled into a
proverb ; and the higheft compliment, that could be paid to
a woman, ^Yas to compare her perfon with the daughter of
Ccrmac.

'S tu fein an Ros-crana.

Siol Chormaec na n'ioma Ian.

Vol. II. G i^eps.

$3 T E M O R A: Book IV.

fteps, thro' the land of the foe. But he who fights
alone; few are his deeds to other times! He
fhines, to-day, a mighty light. To-morroWj
he is low. One fong contains his fame. His
name is on one dark field. He is forgot; but
where his tomb fends forth the tufted grafs."

Such are the words of Fingal, on Mora of
the roes. Three bards, from the rock of Cor-
mul, pour down the pleafing fong. Sleep de-
fcends, in the found, on the broad-fl<:irted hofl:.
Carril returned, with the bards, from the tomb
of Dun-lora's chief. The voice of morning
ihall not come to the dufky bed of Duth-caron.
No more fiialt thou hear the tread of roes
around thy narrow houfe !

As roll the troubled clouds, round a meteor
of night, when they brighten their fides, with
its light, along the heaving fea : fo gathers
Erin, around the gleaming form of Cathmor,
He, tall in the midft, carelefs lifts, at times,
his fpear : as fwells or falls the found of Fonar's
diftant harp. * Near him leaned, againft a

rock,

* In crder to llluftratc this pafTagc, I fl:all give, here, the
hiftory on which it is founded, as I have gathered it fron>
tradition. , The nation of the Firbolg who inhabited the
fouth of Ireland, being originally defccnded from the Belgx,
who poflcffcd the fouth and fouth- weft coaft of Britain, kept
up, for many ages, an anncable cori-efpond-cncc with their

mother-

^ooi^lV. An EPIC POEM. 83

rock, Sul-malla ♦ of blue eyes, the white-
bofomed daughter of Conmor, king of Inis-
huna. To his aid came blue-fliielded Cathmor,
and rolled his foes away. Sul-malla beheld him
ftately in the hall of feafls. Nor carelefs rolled
the eyes of Cathmor on the long-haired maid !

The third day arofc, when Fithil f came,
from Erin of the dreams. He told of the lift-

Tncther-coiintry ; and fent aid to the Bricifh Bclgx, when they
\vere prefied by the Romans or other new-comers from tha
tontinent. Con-mor, king of Inis-huna, (that part of South-
Britain which is over-ilgain{l the Irilh coaft} being attacked,
by what enemy is not mentioned, fent for aid to Cairbar,
lord of Atha, the moft potent chief of the Firbolg. Cairbar
difpatched his brother Cathmor to the affiftance of Con-mor.
Cathmor, after various vicifTitudes of fortune, put an end to
the war, by the total defeat of the enemies of Inis-huna, and
returned in triumph to the refidence of Con-mor. There, at
a feaft, Sul-malla, the daughter of Con-mor, fell defperately
in love with Cathmor, who, before her pafllon was difclofed,
was recalled to Ireland by his brother Cairbar, upon the
news of the intended expedition cf Fingal, to re-ellablifh ths
family of Conar on the Irifli throne. The wind being con-
trary, Cathmor remained, for three days, in a neighbouring
bay, during which time Sul-malla difguifed herfelf in the
habit of a young v;arrior, and came to offer him her fervice
m the war. Cathmor accepted of the propofal, failed for
Ireland, and arrived in Ulfter a few days before the death of
Cairbar.

• Sul-malla, y^o-Tv/y-rc/ZzV/g- ^fj-. Caon-mor, mild an-il tall,
Inis-huna, green ijland.

f Fithil, an inferior bard. It may cither be taken here fcr

the proper name of a man, or in the literal fenfe, as the bares

v?ere the heralds and meflengers of thofe times. Cathmor, it

G 2 is

84 T E M O R A: Book IV.

ing up of the fhield * in Selma : He told of the
danger of Cairbar. Cathmor raifcd the fail at
Cluba : but the winds were in other lands.
Three days he rennained on the coaft, and turned
his eyes on Connnor's halls. He rennennbered
the daughter of ftrangers, and his figh arofe.
Now when the winds awaked the wave : from
the hill canne a youth in arms ; to lift the fvvord
with Cathmor, in his echoing fields. It was
the white-armed Sul-malla. Secret ihe dwelc

is probable, -was abfcnt, when the rebellion of hfs brother
Cairbar, and the airaflmation of Cormac, king of Ireland,
liappened. Cathmor and his followers had only arrived,
from luis-Juma, three days before the death of Cairbar, which
fufficieutly clears his charader from any imputation of being-
concerned in the confpiracy, with his brother.

* The ceremony which was itfed by Fingal, when he
prepared for an expedition, is related thus in tradition :
A l)ard, at midnight, went to the hall, where the tribes
feafted upon folemn occafions, raifed the ivar fong, and thrice
called the fplrits of their deceafed anceftors to come, on theif
elouils, to behold the adtlons of their children. He then fixed
x.\v>i. pidd ofTrenmor, on a tree on the rock of Schna, ftrlking
it, at times, with the blunt end of a fpeiir, and iinging the
war-fong between. Thus he did, for three fucceflive nights^
and, in the mean time, meffengers were difpatched to call
together the tribes ; or, to ufe an ancient expreirion, to call
them from all their f reams. I'his phrafe alludes to the fitua-
tion of the rehdcnces of the clans, which were generally fixed
in valleys, where the torrents of the neighbouring mountains
U'cre colle»5led into one body, and became large Jlreams or ri-
vers. The lifting up of thi Jhichly was the phrafe for begin-
ifng a war»

beneatk

Book IV. An EPIC POEM. 85

beneath her helmet. Her fleps were in the path
of the king : on him her blue eyes rolled with
joy, when he lay by his roaring ftreams ! But
Cathmor thought, that, on Lumon, Ihe ftill
purfucd the roes. He thought, that fair on 9-
rock, (he ftretched her white hand to the wind -,
to feel its courfe from Erin, the green dwelling
of her love. He had promifed to return, with
his white-bofomed fails. The maid is near thee,
Q Cathmor ! leaning on her rock.

The tali forms of the chiefs Hand around ; all
but dark-browed Foldath *. He leaned againft
a dift^nt tree, rolled into his haughty foul. His.
bulhy hair whittles in wind. At times, burfts
the hum of a fong. He ftruck the tree, at
length, in wrath j and ruflied before the king 1
Calm and ftately, to the beam of the oak, arofe
the form of young Hidalia. His hair falls round
his blulhing cheek, in wreaths of waving light.
Soft was his voice in Clon-ra f, in the valley of

* The furly attitude of Foldath is a proper preamble to
his after-behaviour. Chaffed with the difappointment of
the vitftory which he promifed himfclf, he becomes pafflon-
ate and overbearing. The quarrel which fucceeds between
him and Malthos, is introduced, to raife the character of
Cathmor, whofe fuperior worth ftiines forth, in his manly
manner of ending the difference between the chiefs.

f Claon-rath, ivinding field. The th are feldom pro«
jounced audibly in the Galic language.

G 3 his

86 T E M O R A: Book IV,

his fathers. Sofc was his voice when he touched
the harp, in the hall> near his roaring flreams !

" KixG of Erin," faid Hidalla, " now is
the time to fcaft. Bid the voice of bards arife.
Bid them roll the night away. The foul returns^
from fong, more terrible to war. Darknefs
fettles on Erin. From hill to hill bend the
Ikirted clouds. Far and grey, on the heathj the
dreadlul ftrides of ghofts are feen : the ghofts of
thofe-who fell bend forward to their fong. Bid,
OCathmor! the harps to rife, to brighten the
dead, on their wandering blafts."

" Be all the dead forgot," fiiid Foldath'a
burfting wrath. ^' Did not I fail in the field ?
Shall 1 then hear the fong ? Yet was not my
courfe harmlefs in war. Blood was a ftream
around my fteps. But the feeble were behind
me. The foe has efcaped from my fword. In
Clon-ra's vale touch thou the harp. Let Dura
anfwer to the voice of Hidalla. Let fome maid
look, from the Vv'ood, on thy long, yellow
locks. Fly from Lubar's echoing plain. This
is the field of heroes !"

« King of Erin *," Makhos faid, " it is
THINE to lead in war. Thou art a fire to ou?
eyes, on the dark-brov/n field. Like a blaft

* This fpeech of Malthos is, throughout, a fevers repri-
mand to the bluflermg behaviour of Foldath.

6 Jiioy

Book IV. An EPIC POEM. 87

THOU haft paft over hofts. Thou haft laid
them low in blood. But who has heard thy
words returning from the field ? The wrathful
delight in de^xh •: Their remembrance refts on
the wounds of their fpear. Strife is folded in
THEIR thoughts: THEIR words are ever heard.
Thy courfe, chief of Moma, was like a troubled
llream. The dead were rolled on thy path : but
others alfo lift the fpear. We were not feeble
behind thee; but the foe was ftrong."

Cathmor beheld the rifing rage, and bending
forward of either chief: for, half-unfheathed,
they held their fwords, and rolled their filent
eyes. Now v^ould they have mixed in horrid
fray, had not the wrath of Cathmor burned.
He drew his fvvord : it gleamed thro' night, to
the high-flaming oak! *' Sons of pride," faid
the king, " allay your fwelling fouls. Retire
in night. Why fliould my rage arife ? Should I
contend with both in arms ? It is no time for
ftrife ! Retire, ye clouds, at my feaft. Awake
my foul no more."

They funk from the king on either fide ;
like * two columns of morning mift, when the

fun

* This comparlfon is favourable to the fuperiority of Cath-
mor over his two chiefs. I fhall illuftrate this paflage with
another from a fragment of an ancient poe.-^i, juft now in my
Jiands. " J\s the fun is above the vapours, which his beams
G 4 hav?

88 T E M O R A: Book IV.

fun rlfcs, between them, on his glitceiihg rocks.
Dark IS their rolling on either fide j each to-
ward its rccdy pool 1

Silent fat the chiefs at the feaft. They look,
at times, on Atha's king, where he ftrode, on
his rock, amid his fettling foul. The hoft lie,
along the field. Sleep defcends on Moi-lena.
The voice of Fonar afcends alone, beneath his
diftant tree. It afcends in the praife of Cath-
mor, fon of Larthon * of Lumon. But Cath-
mor did not hear his praife. He lay at the roar

have raifed ; fo Is the foul of the kiag above the fons of fear.
They roll dark below him ; he rejoices in the robe of his
beams. But when feeble deeds wander on the foul of the
king, he is a darkened fan rolled along the fky : the valley is
fad below ; flowers wither beneath the drops of the night." '
* Lear-thon,y^fl imu'vc, the name of the chief of that colony
of the Firbolg, which firfl migrated into Ireland. Larthon's
firft fettlement in that country is related in the feventh book.
He was the anceftor of Cathmor; an-1 is here called Larthon
of Lumon, from a high hill of that name in Inis-huna, the an-
cient feat of the Fir-bolg. The character of Cathmor is pre-
ferved. He had mentioned, in the firft book, the averfion of
that chief to praife, and we find him here lying at the fide of
a ftream, that the noife of it might drown the voice of Fonar,
who, according to the cuftom of the times, fung his eulogium
in his evening fong. Though other chiefs, as well as Cath-
mor, mi<^ht be averfe to hear their own praife, we find it the
iiniverfal policy of the times, to allow the bards to be as ex-
travagant as thcypleafed in their encomiums on the leaders of
armies, in the prcfcnce of their people. The vulgar, who had
no great ability to judge for thernfclvcs, received the charac^.
ters of their princes, entirely upon the faith of their bards.

of

Book IV. An EPIC POEM. 89

of a ftrcam. The ruftling breeze of night flew
9ver his whiftling locks.

His brother came to his dreams, half-feen
from his low-hung cloud. Joy rofe darkly in
his face. He had heard the fong of Carril *.
A blaft fuftained his dark-ftiirted cloud j which
he feized in the bofom of night, as he rofc, with
his fame, towards his airy hall. Half-mixed
With the noife of the ftream, he poured his feeble
words.

}' Joy meet the foul of Cathmor. His voice
was heard on Moi-lena. The bard gave his
fong to Cairbai\ He travels on the wind. My
form is in niy father's hall, like the gliding of
a terrible light, which darts acrofs the defart,
in a ftormy night. No bard fhall be wanting at
ihy tomb, when thou art lowly laid. The fons
pf fong love the valiant. Cathmor, thy name

* Carril, the fon of Kinfena, by the orders of Offian, fun^
the funeral elegy at the tomb of Cairbar. See the fecond book,
towards the end. In all thefe poems, the vifits of ghofts, to
their living friends, are fhort, and their language obfcure,
both which circumftances tend to throw a folemn gloom on
thefe fupernatural fcenes. Towards the latter end of the
fpeech of the ghoft of Cairbar, he foretels the death of Cath-
mor, by enumerating thofe fignals, which, according to the
opinion of the times, preceded the death of a perfon re-
nowned. Jt was thought that the ghofts of deceafed bards
fung, for three nights preceding the death (near the place
there his tomb was to be raifed) round an tmfubftantial
-fignre which rcprefented the body of the perfoa who was to die.

is

JO T E M O R, A: Book 17.

is a pleafant gale. The mournful founds arife !
On Lubar's field there is a voice ! Louder ftill,
ye fliadowy ghofts! The dead were full of fame!
3hrilly fvvells the feeble found. The rougher
blaft alone is heard ! Ah, foon -is Cathmor
low !" Rolled into hinafelf he flew, wide on the
bofom of winds. The old oak felt his depar^--
ture, and fhook its whi filing head. Cathmor
ilarts from reft. He takes his deathful fpe^r*
He lifts his eyes around. He fees but dark-
fkirted night.

it It * ^vas th? voice of the king," he faid.
f' But now his form is gone.. Unmarked is your
path in the air, ye children of the night. Often,
like a refleded beam, are ye feen in the defart
vf'iid : but ye retire in your blafts, before our
fleps approach. Go then, ye feeble race!
Knowledge with you there is none ! Your joys
are weak, and like the dreams of our reft, or
the light-winged thought, that flies acrofs the
foul. Shall Cathmor foon be low ? Darkly laid
in his narrow houfe ? Where no morning comes,
with her half-opened eyes ? Away, thou Ihade !

* The foliloquy of Cathmor fuits the magnanimity of his
charafter. Though ftaggercd at firft with the prediiflion of
Cairbar's ghoft, he foon comforts himfelf with the agreeable
profpcdof his future renown ; and, like Achilles, prefers n,
fhort and glorious life, to an obfcure length of years in re-
tirement and eafe.

to

^SookIV. An epic POEM. 91

to fight is mine ! All further thought away ! I
rufli forth, on eagle's wings, to feize my beam of
fame. In the lonely vale of ftreams, abides the
narrow * foul. Years roll on, feafons return,
but he is dill unknown. In a blaft comes cloudy
death, and lays his grey head low. His ghcfl is
folded in the vapour of the fenny field. Its
courfe is never on hills, nor mofiy vales of
wind. So fhall not Cathmor depart. No boy
in the field was he, who only marks the bed of

* An indolent and umvarlike life was held in extreme
fontempt. Whatever a philofopher may fay, in praife of
quiet and retirement, I am far from thinking, but they weaken
.and debafe the human m.ind. When the faculties of the foul
are not exerted, they lofe their vigour, and low and circum-
fcribed notions take the place of noble and enlarged ideas.
Aftion, on the contrary, and the viciffitudes of fortune which
attend it, call forth, by turns, all the powers of the mind,
and, by exercifing, ftrengthen them. Hence it is, that in
great and opulent Ilatesj when property and indolence are
fecured to individuals, we feldom meet with that ftrength of
mind, which is fo common in a nation, not far advanced in
civilization. It is a curious, but juft, obfervation ; that great
kingdoms feldom produce great charadters, which muft be al-
together attributed to that indolence and diffipation, which are
the infepafable companions of too much property and fecurity.
Rome, it is certain, had more real great men within it, when
its power was confined within the narrow bounds of Latium,
thaa when its dominion extended over all the known world ;
and one petty ftutc of the Saxon heptarchy had, perhaps, as
much genuine fpirit in it, as thetwoBritifh kingdoms united.
As a ftate, we are much more powerful than our anceflcrs,
but we would lofe by comparing individuals with them.

roes,

tji T E M O R A: Book IV.

roes, upon the echoing hills. My ilTuing forth
was with kings. My joy in dreadful plains :
where broken hofts are rolled away, like feas be-
fore the wind.'*

So fpoke the king of Alnecmaj brightening
in his rifing foul. Valour, like a pleafant fiame,
is gkaming within his breaft. Stately is his
llride on the heath ! The beam of eaft is poured
around. He faw his grey hoft on the field,
wide-fpreading their ridges in light. He re-
joiced, like a fpirit of heaven, whofe fteps corr.c
forth on the feas, when he beholds them peace-
ful round, and all the winds are laid. But foon
he awakes the waves, and rolls them large to fome
echoing fliore.

On the rufny bank of a flream, flept the;
daughter of Inis-huna. The helmet had fallen
from her head. Her dreams were in the lands
of her fathers. Ther? morning is on the field.
Grey ftream.s leap down from the rocks. The
breezes, in (hadowy waves, fly over the rufliy
fields. There is the found that prepares for
the chace. There the moving of warriors from
the hall. But tall above the reft is fcen the hero
of ftreamy Atha. He bends his eye of love on
Sul-malla, from his (lately fteps. She turns,
with pride, her face away, and carelefs bends
the bow.

Such

I^ookIV. An epic poem. 93

Such were the dreams of the maid, when
Cathmor of Atha came. He faw her fair face
before him, in the midft of her wandering locks.
He knew the maid of Lumon. What fhould
Cathmor do ? His fighs arife. His tears come
down. But ftraight he turns away. " This is
no time, king of Atha, to awake thy fecret foul.
The battle is rolled before thee, like a troubled
ftream."

He ftruck that warning bcfs *, wherein dwelt
the voice of war. Erin rofe around him, like the
found of eagle-wing. Sul-malla ftarted froni
flecp, in her difordered locks. She feized the
helmet from earth. She trembled in her place.
*^' Why fhould they know in Erin of the daugh-
ter of Inis-huna ?" She remembered the race cf
. kings. The pride of her foul arofe 1 Her ftcps
are behind a rock, by the blue-winding f ftrearn
of a vale : where dwelt the dark-brown hind ere
yet the war arofe. Thither came the voice of
Cathmor, at times, to Sul-malla's ear. Her

* In order to underftand this paffage, it is neceffary to loo);
to the defcription of Cathmor's fhield in the feventh book.
This fliield had feven principal bofies, the found of each of
•which, when ftruck with a fpear, conveyed a particular order
.from the king to his tribes. The found of one of them, as
here, was the fignal for the army to aflemble.

t This was not the valley cf Lona to which Scl-mallrj
afcerv/^4rds retired.

foul

^4 T E M O R A: Book IV.

foul is darkly fad. She pours her words ori
wind.

" The dreams of Inis-huna departed. They
are difperfed from my foul. I hear not the chace
in my land. I am concealed in the fkirt of war.
I look forth from my cloud. No beam appears to
light my path. I behold my warrior low ; for
the broad-fhielded king is near, he that over-
comes in danger, Fingal from Selma of fpears 1
Spirit of departed Conmor ! are thy fteps on the
bofom of winds ? Comeft thou, at times, to
other lands, father of fad Sul-malla? Thou dofb
come 1 I have heard thy voice at night -, while
yet i rofe on the wave to Erin of the ftreams.
The ghofl; of fathers, they fay *, call av/ay the

fouls

* Con-mor, the father of Sul-malla,was killed in that wary
from which Cathmor delivered Inis-huna. Lonnar his {on
fucceeded Conmor. It was the opinion of the times, when a
perfon was reduced to a pitch of mifery, which could admit of
no alleviation, that the ghofts of his anceftors caUet^ bis foul
away. This fupcrnatural kind of death was called the 'voice of,
the dead; and is believed by the fuperflitious vulgar tothis day.

There is no people in the world, perhaps, who giv j mora
aniverfal credit to apparitions, and the vifits of the ghofts
of the deceafed to their friends, than the ancient Scots.-
This is to be attributed as much, at leaft, to the fituation of
the country they poffefs, as to that credulous difnofition which
diftinguilhes an unenlightened people. As thcjr bufmefs was
feeding of cattle, in dark and extenfive defarts, fo their jour-
neys lay over wide and unfrequented heaths, v.-here, often,
thev were obliged to fleep in the open air,amidll the Avhiftling

of

Book IV. An EPIC POEM. 95

fouls of their race, while they behold them
lonely in the midft of woe. Call me, my father,
away ! When Cathmor is low on earth. Then
ftiall Sul-malla be lonely in the midft of woe!"

of winds, and roar of water-falls. The gloominefs of the
fcenes around them was apt to beget that melancholy difpofi-
tion of mind, which moft readily receives impreffions of the
extraordinary and fupernatural kind. Falling afleep in this
gloomy mood, and their dreams being difturbed by the noife
of the elements around, it is no matter of wonder, that they
thought they heard the 'voice of the dead. This 'voice of the
dead, however, was, perhaps, no more than a Ihriller whiftle
of the winds in an old tree, or in the chinks of a neighbour-
ing rock. It is to this caufe I afcribe thofe many and impro-
bable tales of ghofts, which we meet with in the Highlands :
for, in other refpctfts, we do not find that the inhabitants are
more credulou:* than their neijrhbours.

T E M O R A

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK V.

Vol. II.

H

ARGUMENT to Booic V.

The poet, after a fhort addrefs to the harp of Cona^ defcribes
* the arrangement of both armies on either fide of the river
Lubar. Fingal gives the command to Fillan ; but, at the
fame time, orders Gaul, the fon of Morni, who had been
wounded in the hand in the preceding battle, to afTift him
with his counfel. The army of the Fir-bolg is commanded
by Foldathv The general onfet is defcribed. The great
act-ions of Fillao. He kills Rothmar and Culmin. But
when Fillan conquers iii one wing,. Foldath preffes hard
on the other. He wounds Dermid, the fon of Duthno^
and puts the whole wing to flight. Dermid deliberates
with himfelf,. and, at la ft, refolvas to put a ftop to the
progrefs of Foldath, by engaging him in fmgle combats
When the two chiefs were approaching towards one ano-
ther, Fillan came fuddenly to the relief of Dermid ; en-
gaged FoM at h^ and killed him. The behaviour of Mal-
thos towards the fallen Foldath. Fillan puts the wholtr
army of the Fir-bolg to flight. The book clofes with an
addrefs to Clatho> the mother of that hero..

[ 99 ]

T E M O R A:

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK V.

THOU dweller between the flilelds, that
hang, on high, in OITian's hall ! De-
fcend from thy place, O harp, and let me hear
thy voice ! Son of Alpin, ftrike the firing. Thou
muft awake the foul of the bard. The murmur
of Lora's * ftream has rolled the tale away. I
(land in the cloud of years. Few are its open-
ings toward the pad j and when the vifion comes,
it is but dim and dark. I hear thee, harp of
Selma ! my foul returns, like a breeze, which
the fun brings back to the vale, where dwelt the
iazy mift I

* Lora is often mentioned ; it was a fmall and rapid ftream
in the neighbourhood of Selma. There is no veftige cf this
name now remaining ; though it appears from a very old fong,
which the tranflator has feen, that one cf the fmall rivers ou
the north-weft coaft was called Lcra fome centuries age.

H 2 LUBAR.

i

100 T E M O k A : Book V.

LuBAR * is bright before me in the windings
of its vale. On either fide, on their hills, rife
the tall forms of the kingsj Their people are
poured around them, bending forward to their
words : as if their fathers fpoke, defcending
from the winds. But they themfelves are like
two ri>cks in the midflri each with its dark head
of pines, when they are feen in the defarr, above
low-failing milh High on their face are ftreams,
which fpread their foam on blafts of wind !

Beneath the voice of Cathmor pours Erin,
like the found of flame. Wide they come down
to Lubar* Before them is the ftride of Foldatb.
But Cathmor retires to his hiil, beneath his

* From fevcral pafTages in the poem we may form a dif-
tiuft idea of the fcene of the adion of Temora. At a fmall
(liftance from one another rofe the hills of Mora and Lora ;
the firll polfeifed by Fingal, the fecond by the army of Cath-
mor. TJirough the intermediate plain ran the fmall river
Lubar, on the banks of which all the battles were fought,
excepting that between Cairbar and Ofear, related in the firft
book. This lall mentioned engagement happened to the north
of the hill of Mora, of Avhich Finga! took poffeffion, after the
rirmy of CaiAar fell back to that of Cathmor. At fome dif-
tancc, but within fight of Mora, tOAvards the weft, Lubar if-
fued from the mountain of Crommal, and, after a fiiort
courfc through the plain of Moi-lena, difcharged itfelf into
the fea near the field of battle. Behind the mountain of
Crommal ran the fmall ftream of Lavath, on the banks of
•which Ferad-artho, the fon of Cairbre, the only perfon re-
maining of the race of Cona, lived concealed in a cave, du-
ring the ufurpation of Cairbar, the fou of Borbar-duthul.

bending

BookV. An epic POEM. loi

bending oak. The tumbling of a Itream is near
the king. He lifts, at times, his gleaming fpear.
It is a flame to his people, in the midft of war.
Near him flands the daughter of Con-mor, lean-
ing on a rock. She did nor rejoice at the ftrife.
Her foul delighted not in blood. A * valley
fpreads green behind the hill, with its three blue
ftreams. The fun is there in filence. The dun
mountain-roes come down. On thcfe are turned
the eyes of Sul-malla in her thoughtful mood,

FiNGAL beholds Cachmor, on high, the fon
of Borbar-duthul ! he beholds the deep-roiling of
Erin, on the darkened plain. He ftrikes that warn-
ing bofs, which bids the people to obey ; when
he fends his chiefs before them, to the field of
renown. Wide rife their fpears to the fun.
Their echoing fhields reply around. Fear, like
a, vapour, winds not among the hoft : for he, the
KING, is near, the ftrength of ftreamy Selma.
Gladnefs brightens the hero. We hear his words
with joy.

** Like the coming forth of winds, is the
found of Selma's fons ! They are mountain
waters, determined in cheir courfe. Hence is

* It was to this valley Sul-malla retired, during tlie laft
and decifive battle between Fmgal and Cathmor. It is dc-
f9ribed in the feventh book, where \^ is called the vale of
Lona, and the refidcnce of a Druid.

H 3 Fingal

102 T E M O R A: Book V.

Fingal renowned. Hence is his name in other
lands. H-^ was not a lonely beam in danger ;
for your fteps were always near ! But never was
Fingal a dreadful form, in your prefence,
darkened into wrath. My voice was no thun-
der to your ears. Mine eyes lent forrh no death.
When the haughty appeared, I beheld them not.
They were forgot at my feafts. Like mill they
melted away. A young beam is before you !^
Few are his paths to war ! They are few, but he
is valiant. Defend my dark-haired fon. Bring
Fiilan back with joy. Hereafter he may fland
alone. His form is like his fathers. His foul is
a flame of their fire. Son of car-borne Mornfi
move behind the youth. Let thy voice reach
his ear, from the fkirts of war. Not unobferved
rolls battle, before thee, breaker of the fnields !'*

The king ftrode, at once, away to Cormul's
lofty rock. Intermitting, darts the light, from,
his fhield, as, flow the king of heroes moves.
Sidelong rolls his eye o'er the heath, as form-
ing advance the lines. Graceful fly his half-
grey locks round his kingly features, now
lightened with dreadful joy. Wholly mighty is
the chief I Behind him dark and flow I moved.
Straight came forward the fl:rength of Gaul, His
fhiejd hung loofe on its thong. He fpoke, in hafte,

to

BooklV. An epic POEM. 105

to OOian. " Bind *, Ton of Fingal, this Afield!
Bind it high to the fide of Gaul. The foe may
behold it, and think I lift the fpear. If I Ihould
fall, let my tomb be hid in the field i for fall I
mufl: without fame. Mine arm cannot lift the
fteel. Let not Evir-choma hear it, to blufh be-
tween her locks. Fillan, the mighty behold us !
Let us not forget the firife. Why (hould they
come, from their hills, to aid our Hying field r"

He ftrode onward, with the found of his
Ihield. My voice purfued him as he went.
" Can the i'oa of Morni fail, without his fame
in Erin ? But the deeds of the mighty are forgot
by themfelves. They rufh cnrelefs over the fields
of renown. Their words are never heard I" I
rejoiced over the (leps of the chief. I fi.rode to
the rock of the king, where he fat, in his wan-
dering locks, amid the mounrain-wind !

In two dark ridges bend the hofts, toward
each other, at Lubar, Here Foldarh riTes a
pillar of darknefs : there brightens tUi- youth of
Fiilan, Each, with his fpear in the II ream, icnc
forth the voice of v/ar. Ganl nnick the Ihirld
of Selma. Ac once tr.ey plung.- in baTie ! Srrcl
pours its gleam on (Icel : like the fall of fireams

* It is necefTary to remember, tlia! C,.v\\ was v.'oundcd ;
wliich occ;ifions his requiring here tJic afiiiijnc,: uf Oinan to
bijid his Ihield on his Iklc.

H 4 Ihunf-

104 T E M O R A: Booic V,

ihone the field, when they mix their foam toge-
ther, from two dark-browed rocks ! Behold he
comes, the fon of fame ! He lays the people low !
Deaths flc on blafts around him I Warriors drew
thy paths, O Fillan !

RoTHMAR *, the fhield of warriors, flood be-
tween two chinky rocks. Two oaks, which
winds had bent from high, fpread their branches
on either fide. He rolls his darkening eyes on
I'illan, and, filent, fliades his friends. Fingal
favv the approaching fight. The hero's foul
arofe. But as the ftone of Loda f falls, fhook,

* RotliTmar, the/QundofthefeaheforeaJlorm- Drum.in-:
tird, high-ridge. Cul-min, j'ofl-haired. CuU-allin, beautiful
locks. Strutha, Jlreamy ri'ver.

■\ By the ftone of Loda is meant a place of worfhrp among
the Scandinavians. The Caledonians, in their many expedi-j
tions to Orkney and Scandinavia, became acquainted with
feme of the rites of the religion which prevailed in thofe
countries, and the ancient poetry frequently alludes to them.
There are fome ruins, and circular pales of flone, remaining
fiill in Orkney, and the illands of Shetland, which retain, to
this day, the name q{ Lcda or Loden. They feem to have dif->
fcred materially, in their conftrudion, from thofe Druidica,!
rnonumcnts Avhich remain in Britain, and the weftern ifles.
The places of worihip among the Scandinavians were origi-
nally ruce and unadon:cd. In after ages, when they opened
a communication with pther nations, they adopted their
manners, and built temples. That at Upfal, in Sweden, was
ama/.ingly rich and magnificent. Harquin, of Norway, built
one, near Drontheim, little inferior to the former ; and it
went always ii^der the name of Lodcn. Malkt, introdudion a
rhijioire de Dannemarc,

At

BookV. An epic POEM. 105

at once, from rocking Druman-ard, when fpi-
rits heave the earth in their wrath j fo fell blue-
fhielded Rothmar.

Near are the fteps of Culmin. The youth
came, burfling into tears. Wrathful he cut the
wind, ere yet he mixed his ftrokes with Fillan.
He had firft bent the bow with Rothmar, at the
rock of his own blue dreams. There they had
marked the place of the roe, as the fun-beam flew
over the fern. Why, fon of Cul-allin! Why, Cul-
min, doft thou rufli on that beam * of light ? It is a
fire that con fu Ties. Son ot Cul-allin, retire. Your
fathers were not equal, in the glittering llrife of the
field. The mother of Culmin remains in the hall.
She looks forth on blue-rolling Strutha. A whirl-
wind rifcs, on the ftream, dark-eddying round
the ghoft of her fon. His dogs f are howling

in

* The poet, metjiphorically, calls Fillan a beam of light,
pulmin, mentioned here, was the fon of Clopmar, chief of
Strutha, by the beautiful Cul-allin. She was fo reir.arkable
for the beauty of her perfon, that fhe is Introduced, fre-
quently, in the fimilies and allufions of ancient poetry.
Mar Chulalui7i Strutha nan Jlan ; Lo'vely as Cul-allin of Strutha
of the Jlorms.

f Dogs were thought to be fenfible of the death of their
mafter, let it happen at ever fo great a diilance. It was
alfo the opinion of the times, that the arms which warriors
left at home became bloody, when they them.felves fell in
battle. It was from thofe figns th-at Cul-allin is fuppofcj to
^inUcrllaud that her fon is killed j in \\hich llie is coniirmed

by

io6 T E M O R A: Book V,

in their place. His fliield is blpody in the hall.
" Art thou fallen, my fair-haired fon, in Erin's
difmal war ?"

As a roe, pierced in fccrct, lies panting, by
her wonted dreams ; the hunter furveys her feet
of wind : He remembers her ftately bounding
before. So lay the Ion of Cul-allin beneath the
eye of Fillan. His hair is rolled in a little
ilream. His blood wanders on his fiiield. Still
his hand holds the fword, that failed him in the
midft of danger. " Thou art fallen," faid
Fillan, " ere yet thy fame was heard. Thy
father fent thee to war. He expefls to hear of
thy deeds. He is grey, perhaps, at his flreams.
His eyes are toward Moi-lena. But thou Ihalt
not return with the fpoil of the fallen foe !'*

Fillan pours the flight of Erin before him,
over the refounding heath. But, man on man,
fell Morven before the dark-red rage of Fol-
dath : for, far on the field, he poured the roar
of half his tribes. Dermid ftands before him ia
wrath. The fons of Selma gathered around,

by the appearance of his ghoft. Her fiidden and fliort exr
clamation is more judicious in the poet, than if ihe had ex-
tended her complaints to a greater length. The attitude of
the fallen youth, and Fillan's reflexions over him, come for-
cibly back on the niiad, when we confider, that the fappofcd
fituation of the fiithcr of Culmin, was fo fimllar to that of
J'ingal, after the death of Fillan hinifelf,

Bu5

BookV. An epic poem. 107

But his Ihield is clefc by Foldath. His people
fly over the heath.

Then faid the foe, in his pride, *' They have
fled. My fame begins ! Go, Malthos, go bid
Cathmor guard the dark-rolling of ocean; that
Fingal may not efcape from my fword. He
muft lie on earth. Befide fome fen fhall his
tomb be feen. It (hall rife without a fong. His
ghoft ihall hover, in mift, over the reedy
pool."

Malthos heard, with darkening doubt. He
rolled his filent eyes. He knew the pride of
Foldath, He looked up to Fingal on his hills ;
then darkly turning, in doubtful mood, he
plunged his fword in war.

In Cloi^'s * narrow vale, where bend two
trees above the ftream, dark, in his grief, ftood

Duthno's

* This valley had its name from Clono, fon of Lethmal of
I,ora, one of the anceftorsof Dermid, the fon of Diithno. His
hiftoryis thus i-elated in an old poem. In the days of Conar,
the fon of Trenmor, the firft king of Irehmd, Clono paifed
over into that kingdom, from Caledonia, to aid Conar againft
the Fir-bolg. Being remarkable for the beauty of his perfon,
he foon drew the attention of Sulmin, the young wife of an
Irilh chief. She difclofed her paffion, which was not properly
returned by the Caledonian. The lady fickened, thro' dif-
appointmcnt, and her love for Clono came to the ears of her
hufband. Fired with jcaloufy, he vowed revenge. Clono, to
avoid his rage, departed from Tcmora, in order to pafs over

into

I0& T E M O R A : Book V.

Duthno's filent fon. The blood pours from the
fide of Dermid. His fhield is broken near.
His fpear leans againfl: a ftone. Why, Dermid,
"why fo fad ? « I hear the roar of battle. My

into Scotland ; and, being benighted in the valley mentioned
here, he laid him down to fleep. There Lethmal defcendtd in
the dreams of Clono, and told him. that danger njoas near.

Ghoft of Lethmal.
•' Arife from thy bed of mofs ; fon of low-laid Lethmal,
arife. The found of the coming of foes, dcfcends along the
wind.

Clono.
** Whofe voice is that, like many llreams, In the feafcn
of my reft ?

Ghoft of Lethmal.
" Arife, thou dweller of the fouls of the lovely ; fon of
I^ethmal, arife,

Clono.
** How dreary Is the night 1 The moon is darkened in the
Iky; red are the paths of gholls along its fullen face ! Green-
fkirted meteors fet around. Dull is the roaring of ftreams,
from the valley of dim forms. I hear thee, fpirit pf my fa-
ther, on the eddying courfe of the wind. I hear thee ; but
thou bendeft not, forward, thy tall form, from tlie fkirts of
night."

As Clono prepared to depart, the huftumd of Sulmin came
up, with his n -merous attendants. Clono defended himfelf,
but, after a gallant refiftance, he was ovei'powered and {lain.
He was buried in the place wlure he was killed, and the
valley was called after his name. Dermid, in his requeft to
Gaul the fon of Morni, which immediately follows this pa-
ragraph, alludes to the tomb of Clono, and his own connec-
tion with that uutortunate chief-

people

BookV. An epic POEM. 109

people are alone. My (teps are flow on the
heath ; and no fhield is nnine. Shall he then
prevail ? It is then after Dermid is flow ! I will
call thee forth, O Foldath ! and meet thee yet in
fight."

He took his fpear, with dreadful joy. The
fon of Morni came. " Stay, fon of Duthno,
(lay thy fpeed. 1 hy fteps are marked with
blood. No bofly fliield is thine. Why fliouldfl:
thou fall unarmed ?" " Son of Morni ! give
thou thy fliield. It has often rolled back the
war. I fliall fl:op the chief in his courfe. Son
of Morni ! behold that fcone ! It lifts its grey
head through grafs. There dwells a chief of the
race of Dermid. Place me there in night."

He flowly rofe againd the hill. He favv the
troubled field : The gleaming ridges of battle,
disjoined and broken round. As diftant fires,
on heath by night, now feem as loft in fmoak ;
now rearing their red ftreams on the hill, as
blow or ceafe the winds : fo met the intermitting
war the eye of broad-fliielded Dermid. Through
the hoft are the ftrides of Foldath, like fome
dark ftiip on wintry waves, when flie iflues
from between two ifles, to fport on refounding
ocean !

Dermid, with rage, beholds his courfe. He
ftrives to rulh along. But he fails amid his

Heps j

tio t E M O R A: Book V.

fteps ; and the big tear comes down. He founds
his father's horn* He thrice ftrikes his bofly
fhield. He calls thrice the nanne pf Foldath,
from his roaring tribes. Foldath, with joy,
beholds the chief* He lifts aloft his bloody
fpear. As a rock is marked with dreams, that
fell troubled down its fide in a ftorm j fo,
llreaked with wandering blood, is the dark chief
of Moma I The hod, on either fide, withdraw
from the contending of kings. They raife, at
once, their gleaming points. Rufliing comes
Fillan of Selma. Three paces back Foldath
withdraws, dazzled with that beam of light,
which came, as ifiTuing from a cloud, to fave
the wounded chief. Growing in his pride he
Hands, He calls forth all his fteel.

As meet two broad-winged eagles, in their
founding ftrife, in winds : fo rulh the two chiefs,
on Moi-Iena, into gloomy fight. By turns are
the fteps of the kings * forward on their rocks
above j for nov/ the dufky war feems to defcend
on their fwords. Cathmor feels the joy of war-
riors, on his mofly hill : their joy in fecret,
when dangers rife to match their fouls. His eye
is not turned on Lubar, but on Selma's dread-
ful king. He beholds him, on Mora, rifing iri
his arms.

* Fingal and CaLlimor.

I Foldath

BookV. An epic poem. hi

FoLDATH * falls on his fhield. The fpear
of Fillan pierced the king. Nor looks the youth
on the fallen, but onward rolls the war. The
hundred voices of death arife. " Stay, fon of
Fingal, ftay thy fpeed. Beholdefl thou not that
gleaming form, a dreadful fign of death ?

* The fall of Foldath, if we may believe tradition, was
prediflcd to him, I>efore he had ]ef"t his own country to join
Cairbar, in his defigns on the Ivllh throne. He went to the
cave of Moma, to enquire of , the fpirits of his fathers, con-
cerning the fuccefs of the enterprife of Cairbar. The re-
fpouffs of oracles are always attended with obfcurity, and
liable to a double meaning : Foldath, therefore, put a favour-
able intepretatJon on the prediiflion, and purfaed^iis adopted
plan of aggrandizing himfelf with the family of Atha.

Foldath, addrejjing the fpirits of his fathers.
" Dark, I ftand in your prefencc ; fathers of Foldath
hear. Shall my fteps pafs over Atha, to Ullin of the rocs ?

The Atf.vcr.

** Tliy Ileps fhall pafs over Atha, to the green dwelling
of kings. There fliall thy ftature arife, over the fallen, like
a pillar of thunder-clouds. There, terrible \a. darknefs, fhalc
thou (land, till the refleBed beam^ or Clon-cath of Moruth,
come ; Moruth of many ftreams, that roars m diftant lands."

Cloncath, or refecled beam, fay my traditional authors,
was the name of the fword of Fillan ; fo that it was, in the
latent fignification of the word Cloncath, tliat ths-deception
lay. My principal reafon for introducing this note, is,
that this tradition fervcs to Ihew, that the religion of the
Fir-bolg differed from that of the Caledonians, as we never
find the latrer enquiring of the fpirits of their deceafed an-
ceftors.

Awaken

it2 T E M O R A: Bbojc Vi

Awaken not the king of Erin. Return, fon of
blue-eyed Clatho.'*

Malthos * beholds Foldath low. He
darkly flands above the chief. Hatred is rolled
from his foul. He feems a rock in a defarr, on
whofe dark fide are the trickling of waters ;
when the flow-failing mift has left it, and all its
trees are blafted with winds. He fpoke to the
dying hero, about the narrow houfe. '* Whe-^
ther (hall thy grey (lone rife in Ullin, or in
Moma's f woody land ? where the fun looks,
in fecret, on the blue ftreams of Dalrutho J ?

There

* The charaiflers of Foldath and Malthos are fuftained.
They were both dark ar.d furly, but each in a different
u-ay. Foldath %Vas impetuous and cruel. Malthos ftub-
born and incredulous. Their attachment to the family of
Atha was equal ; their bravery in battle the fame. Foldath
was vain and oftcntatious : Malthos unindulgent but gene-
rous. His behaviour here, towards his enemy Foldath, Ihews,
that a good heart often lies concealed under a gloomy aiid
fullen charafter.

•^ Moma was the name of a country in the fouth of Con-
naught, once famous for being the rcfidence of an Arch-
Druid. The cave of Moma was thought to be inhabited by
the fpirits of the chiefs of the Fir-bolg, and their pofterity
fent to enquire there, as to an oracle, concerning the iffue
of their wars.

X 'Da.l-m^th, farchrti or fandy field. The etymology of Dar-
dulena is uncertain. The daughter of Foldath was, probably,
fo called, from a place inUlfter, where her father had defeated
part of the adherents of Artho, king of Ireland. Dor-du-

Jena;

BookV. An epic POEM. 113

There are the Heps of thy daughter, blue-eyed
Dardu-lena !"

" Rememberest thou her," faid Foldath,
** becaufe no fon is mine : no youth to roll the
battle before him, in revenge of me ? Malthos,
I am revenged. I was not peaceful in the field.
Raife the tombs of thofe I have flain, around my
narrow houfe. Ofcen " fhall I forfake the blafl,
to rejoice above their graves ; when I behold
them fpread around, with their long-whiftling
grafs."

His foul rufhed to the vale of Moma, to
Dardu-lena's dreams, where fhe flept, by Dal-
rutho's rtream, returning from the chace of the
hinds. Her bow is near the maid, unftrung.
The breezes fold her long hair on her breafts.
Cloathed in the beauty of youth, the love of
heroes lay. Dark-bending, from the fl<.irts of
the wood, her wounded father feemed to come.
He appeared, at times, then hid himfelf in
mifl:. Burfting into tears fhe rofe. She knew
that the chief was low. To her came a beam
from his foul, when folded '\n its Itorms.

lena ; the dark ivood of Moi-lena. As Foldath was proud and
oftentatious, it would appear, that he transferred the name
qF a place, where he himfelf had been victorious, to his
daughter.

Vol. II. J Thou

114 T E M O R A: Book V.

Thou wert the laft of his race, O blue-eyed
Dardu-lena !

Wide-spreading over echoing Lubar, the
flight of Bolga is rolled along. Fillan hangs
forward on their fleps. He ftrcws, with dead,
the heath. Fingal rejoices over his fon. Blue-
ihielded Cathmor rofc *.

Son ofAlpin, bring the harp. Give Fillan's
praife to the wind. Raife high his praife, in
mine ear, while yet he [hines in war.

" Leave, blue-eyed Clatho, leave thy hall *
Behold that early beam of thine ! The hoft is
withered in its courfe. No further look, it is
dark. Light-trennbling from the harp, ftrike,
virgins, fir ike the found. No hunter he de--
fcends, from the dewy haunt of the bounding
roe. He bends not his bow on the wind; nor
fends his grey arrow abroad.

* The fufpencc, in which the mind of the reader is left
here, conveys the idea of FilLin's danger more forcibly
home, than any defcription that could be introduced. There'
is a fort of eloquence, in filence with propriety. A minute
detail of the circuniftances of an important fcene is generally
cold and infipid. ^he human mind, free and fond of think-
ing for itfelf, is uifgufted to find every thing done by the
poet. It is, therefore, his bufmefs only to mark the moft
ftriking out-lines, and to alhr.v the imaginations of his read-
ers to finilh the figure for themfelves."

The book ends in the afternoon of the third day, from th©
Opening of the poem.

« Deep-

BookV« An epic POEM. 115

" Deep-folded in red war! See battle roll
againfl: his fide. Striding amid the ridgy ftrife,
he pours the deaths of thoufands forth. Fillan
is like a fpirit of heaven, that defcends from tlK
fkirt of winds. The troubled ocean feels his
fteps, as he ftrides from wave to wave. His
path kindles behind him. Iflands fhake their
heads on the heaving feas ! Leave, blue-eyed
Clatho, leave thy hall I"

I 2

T E M O R A;

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK VI.

i3

ARGUMENT co Book VL

This bock opens wi^h a fpeeeh of Fing:il, -who fees Cathmor
defcending to the ailiftance of his flying army. The ki-ng
difpatches OiTian to the relief of Fillan. He himfclf retires
behind the rock of Cormu], to avoid the fight of the en-
gagement between his fon and Cathmor. Offian advances.
The defcent of Cathmor defcrihed. He rallies the army,
renews the battle, and, before Offian could arrive, engages
Fillan himfclf. Upon the approach of Offian, the combat
between the two heroes ceafes. Offian and Cathmor pre-
pare to fight, but night coming on prevents them. Offian
returns to the place where Cathmor and Fillan fought. He
finds Fillan mortally wounded, and leaning againit a rock.
Their difcourfe. Fillan dies : his body is laid, by Offian,
in a neighbouring cave. The Caledonian army return to
Fingal. He qu^fiicns them about his fon, and, under.,
ftanding that he was killed, retires, in filence, to the rock
of Cormul. Upon the retreat of the army of Fingal, the
Fir-bolg advance. Cathmor finds Bran, one of the dogs of
Fingal, lying on the fhield of Fillan, before the entrance
of the cave, where the body of that hero lay. His reflec-
tions thereupon. He returns, in a melancholy mood, to
his army. Malthos endeavours to comfort him, by the
example of his father Borbar-duthal. Cathmor retires to
reft. The fong of Sul-malla concludes the book, which
ends about the middle of the third night, from the open-
ing of the poem.

[ "9 ]

T E M O R A:

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK VI.

» <( y^ATHMOR rifes on his hill! Shall
VJ Fingal take the fword of Luno r But
what fliould become of thy fame, fon of white-
bofomed Clatho ? Turn not thine eyes from
Fingal, fair daughter of Iniftore, I Ihall not
quench thy early beam. It fliines along my
foul. Rife, wopd-fkirred Mora, rife between
the war and mc I Why Ihould Fingal behold the
ftrife, left his dark-haired warrior Ihould fall !
Amidft the fong, O Carril, pour the found of
the trembling harp ! Here are the voices of
rocks ! and there the bright tumbling of waters.
Father of Ofcar, lift the fpear 1 Defend the young
in arms. Conceal thy fteps from Fillaii. He

* Fingal fiieaks. ^

I 4 mud

I20 T E M O R A: Book VI.

iTiuft not know that I doubt his (leel. No
cloud of mine fliall rife, my fon, upon thy foul
of fire!"

He funk behind his rock, amid the found of
Carril's fong. Brightening, in my growing
foul, I took the fpear of Temora *. I faw,
along Moilena, the wild tumbling of battle i
the ftrife of death, in gleaming rows, disjoined
and broken round. Fillan is a beam of fire.
From wing to wing is his vvafteful courfe. The
ridges of war melt before him. They are rolled,
in fmoak, 'from the fields !

Now is the coming forth of Cathm^or, in
the armour of kings ! Dark-waves the eagle's
wing, above his helmet of fire. Unconcerned
are his fheps, as if they were to the chace of
Erin. He raifes, at times, his terrible voice.
Erin, abafhed, gathers round. Their fouls re-
turn back, like a ftream. They wonder at the
fteps of their fear. He rofe, like the beam of
the morning, on a haunted heath : the traveller
looks back, with bending eye, on the field of
dreadful forms ! Sudden, from the rock of Moi-
lena, are Sul-malla's trembling fteps. An oak

* Thz /pear of Temora •W2L.S that which Ofcar had received,
in a prefent, from Cormac, the fon of Artho, king of Ireland.
It was of it that Cairbar made the pretext fo. quiUTelling
with Ofcar, at the fealt, in the firft booii.

take,

Book VI. An EPIC POEM. tii

takes the fpear from her hand. Half-bent Hie
loofes the lance. But then are her eyes on the
king, from amid her wandering locks ! No
friendly ftrife is before thee ! No light contend-
ing of bows, as when the youth of * Inis-huna
come forth beneath the eye of Conmor !

As the rock of Runo, which takes the pafling
clouds as they fly, feems growing, in gathered
darknefs, over the ftreamy heath -, fo feems the
chief of Atha taller, as gather his people around.
As different blafts fly over the fea, each behind
its daik-blue wave, fo Cathmor's words, on every
fide, pour his warriors forth. Nor filent on his
hill is Fillan. He mixes his words with his
echoing fliield. An eagle he feemed, with
founding wings, calling the wind to his rock,
when he fees the coming forth of the roes, on
Lutha's t rulhy field !

* Clu-ba, nvinding bay ; an arm of the fea In Inis-huna, or
the weftern coaft of South- Britain. It was in this bay that
Cathmor was wind-bound when Sul-malla came, in the dif-
guife of a young warrior, to accompany him in his voyage
to Ireland, Conmor, the father of Sul-malla, as is infi-
nuated at the clofe of the fourth book, was dead before the
departure of his daughter.

t Lutha was the name of a valley in Morven. There
dwelt Tofcar the fon of Conloch, the father of Malvina, who,
upon that account, is often called the maid of Lutha. Lutha
fignifies fwi/t Jinam^

Now

122 T E M O R A: Book VI,

Now they bend forward in battle. Death's
hundred voices arife. The kings, on either fide,
were like fires on the fouls of the hofts. Offiaa
bounded along. High rocks and trees rufh tall
between the war and me. But I hear the noife
of fteel, between my clanging arms. Rifing,
gleaming, on the hill, I behold the backward
fteps of hofts : their backward fteps, on either
fide, and wildly-looking eyes. The chiefs were
met in dreadful fight ! The two blue-fhielded
kings ! Tall and dark, through gleams of fteel,
are feen the ftriving heroes ! 1 rufh. My fears
for Fillan fiy, burning acrofs my foul.

I COME. Nor Cathmor flies ; nor yet corner
on 3 he fidelong ftalks along. An icy rock,
cold, tall, he feems. I call forth all my fteel.
Silent awhile we ftride, on either fide of a rufti-
ing ftream : then, fudden turning, all at once,
we raife our pointed fpears ! We raife our
fpears, but night comes down. It is dark and
filent round j but where the diftant fteps of hofts
are founding over the heath !

1 COME to the place where Fillan fought. Nor
voice, nor found is there. A broken helmet
lies on earth, a buckler cleft in twain. Where,
Fillan, where art thou, young chief of echo-
ing Morven ? He hears me leaning on a rock,

which

JJooicVf. An EPIC POEM. 123

which bends its grey head over the ftream. He
Jiears -, but fullen, dark he Hands. At length I
faw the hero !

" Why {landed thou, robed in darknefs, (on
of woody Selma ? Bright is thy path, my bro-
ther, in this dark-brown field ! Long has been
thy ftrife in battle ! Now the horn of Fingal is
heard. Afcend to the cloud of thy father, to
his hill of feafts. In the evening mift he fits, and
hears the found of Carril's harp. Carry joy to
the aged, young breakers of the fhields !"

" Can the vanqui(bed carry joy ? OITian, no
fhield is mine ! It lies broken on the field. The
eagle-wing of my helmet is torn. It is when
foes fly before them, that fathers delight in their
fons. But their fighs burft forth, in fecret,
when their young warriors yield. No : Fillan
Ihall not behold the king ! Why fiiould tiie hero
mourn ?"

" Son of blue-eyed Clatho ! O Fillan, awake
not my foul 1 Wert thou not a burning fire be-
fore him ? Shall he not rejoice ? Such fame be-
longs not to Oflianj yet is the king dill a fun to
me. He looks on my fteps with joy. Shadows
never rife on his face. Afcend, O Fillan, to
Mora 1 His feaft is fpread in the folds of mill."

" OssiAN ! give me that broken Ihield : thefe
feathers that are rolled in the wind. Place them

near

124 T E M O R A: Book VL

near to Fillan, that lefs of his fame may falL

OflTian, 1 begin to fail. Lay me in that hollow

rock. Raife no (lone above, left one fliould afk

about my fame. I am fallen in the firft of my

fields J fallen without renown. Let thy voice

ALONE fend joy to my flying foul. Why fhould

the bard know where dwells the loft beam of

Clatho * V*

« Is

* A dialogue between CIat!io the mother and Boftnina,
the fifter of Fillan.

Clatho.

" Daughter of Fingal, arife ! thou light between thy locks.
Lift thy fair head from reft, foft-gliding fun-beam of Selma !
I beheld thy arms, on thy breaft, white tofled amidft thy
wandering locks : when the ruftling breeze of the morning
came from the defart of ftreams. Haft thou feen thy fathers,
Bos-mina, defcending in thy dreams ? Arife, daughter of
Clatho ; dwells there aught of grief in thy foul ?

BOS-MINA.

" A thin form pafted before me, fading as it flew : like the
darkening wave of a breeze, along a field of grafs. Defcend^
from thy wall, O harp, and call back the foul of Bos-mina,
it has rolled away, like a ftream. I hear thy pleafant found.
I hear thee, O harp, and my voice faall rife.

*' How often ftiaU ye rufh to war, ye dwellers of my foul?
Your paths are diftant, kings of men, in Erin of blue ftreams;
Lift thy wing, thou fouthern breeze, from Clone's darkening
heath : fprcad the fails of Fingal towards the bays of his land.

" But who is that, in his ftrength, darkening in the prefence
of war J His arm ftretchcs to the foe, Hke the beam of the
fickly fun ; when his fide is crufted with darknefs ; and he
rolls his difmal courfe through the Iky. Who is it, but the
father of Bos-mina ? Shall he return till danger is paft !

" Fillan,

BookVT. An epic POEM. 125

** Is thy fplrit on the eddying winds,, O Fil-
Ian, young breaker of fhields ! Joy purfue my
hero, through his folded clouds. The forms of
thy fathers, O Fillan, bend to receive their Ion.
I behold the fpreadlng of their fire on Mora :
the blue-rolling of their mifty wreaths. Joy
meet thee my brother 1 But we are dark and
fad '. I behold the foe round the aged. I be-
hold the wafting away of his fame. Thou art
left alone in the field, O grey-haired king of
3elma !"

I LAID him in the hollow rock, at the roar
of the nightly ftream. One red flar looked in
on the hero. Winds lift, at times, his locks. I
liften. No found is heard. The warrior flept !
As lightening on a cloud, a thought came rufh-
ing along my foul. My eyes roll in fire : my

" Fillan, thou art a beam by his fide ; beautiful, but terri-
ble, is thy light. Thy fword is before thee, a blue fire of
night. When fhalt thou return to thy roes ; to the ftreams
of thy rufhy fields ? When Ihall I behold thee from Mora,
while winds ftrew my long locks on their blaft: ! But fhall a
young eagle return from the field where the heroes fall !
Clatho,

" Soft, as the fong of Loda, is the voice of Selma's maid.
Pleafant to the ear of Clatho is the name of the breaker of
fhields. Behold, the king comes from ocean : the fliield of
Morven is borne by bards. The foe has fled before him, like
the departure of mift. I hear not the founding v.'ings of my
eagle ; the rufhing forth of the fon of Clatho. Thou art
dark, O Fingal ; fhall the warrior never return V -^ * * *

ftride

tiS T E M O R A: Book VL

flride was in the clang of fteel. " I will find
thee, king of Erin 1 in the gathering of thy
thoufands find thee. Why fhould that cloud
cfcape, that quenched our early beam ? Kindle
your meteors on your hills, my fathers. Light
my daring fteps» I will confume in wrath *.
But (hould not I return ! The king is without a
fon, grey-haired among his foes 1 His arm is
not as in the days of old. His fame grows dim
in Erin. Let me not behold him, laid low in
his latter field. But can I return to the king ?
Will he not afk about his fon ? " Thou oughteft
to defend young Fillan." Offian will meet the
foe I Green Erin, thy founding tread is pleafant

* Here the fentence is defignedly left unfinifted. The fenfe
Is, that h.c Avas refolved, like a deftroying fire, to confume
Cathmor, who had killed his brother. In the inidll of this
refolution, the fituation of Fingal fuggefts itfclf to him, in a
very ftrong light. He refolves to return to affift the king in
profecuting the war. But then his ihame for not defending
his brother, recurs to him. He is determined again to go
and find out Cathmor. We may confider him, as in the acT:
of advancing towards the enemy, when the horn of Fingal
founded on Moi-a, and called back his people to his prefence.
This foliloquy is natural : the refolutions which fo fuddenly
follow one another, are expreflive of a mind extremely agi-
tated with forrow and confcious fhame ; yet the behaviour of
Offian, in his execution of the commands of Fingal, is fo irre-
prehenfible, that it is not eafy to determine where he failed
in his duty. The truth is, that when men fail in defigns
which they ardently wifh to accomplifh, they naturally blame
themfelves, as tiae chief caufe of their djfappointment.

to

fiooKVI. An epic POEM. i%j

to my ear. I rufh on thy ridgy hoft, to fhun
the eyes of Fingal. I hear the voice of the king,
on Mora's mifty top 1 He calls his two fons ! I
come, my father, in my grief. I come like an
eagle, which the flame of night met in the de-
fart, and fpoiled of half his wings !"

Distant*, round the king, on Mora, the
broken ridges of Morven are rolled. They
turned their eyes : each darkly bends, on his
own aflien fpear. Silent flood the king in the
midft. Thought on thought rolled over his
foul. As waves on a fecret mountain- lake, each
with its back of foam. He looked j no fon ap-
peared, with his long-beaming fpear. The
figiis rofe, crowding, from his foulj but he
concealed his grief. At length I flood beneath
an oak. No voice of mine was heard. What
could I fay to Fingal in his hour of woe ? His

* " This fccne," f;iys an ingenious writer, and a good judge,
*'is folemn. The poetalways places his chief charafter amidft
objedts which favour the fubhme. The face of the country,
the night, the broken remain? of a defeated army, and, above
all, the attitude and filence of Fingal himfelf, are circum-
ftances calculated to imprefs an awful idea on the mind*
Offian is moil fuccefsful in his night-defcriptions. Dark
images fuited the melancholy temper of his mind. His
poems were all compofed after the aflive part of his life
was over, when he was blind, and had furvived all the com-
panions of his youth : we therefor^ find a veil of melancholy
thrown over the whole."

6 • words

128 T E M O R A: Book VI.

words rofe, at length, in the midfl: : the people
ihrunk backward as he fpoke *.

" Where

'* I owe the fij-ft paragraph of the following note to the
fixme pen.

" The abafhed behaviour of the army of Fingal proceeds
rather from fliame than fear. The king was not of a tyran-
nical difpofition : He, as he profefles himfelf in the fifth book,
never 'was a dreadful form, itt their prefence, darke7ted into vjratb.
His voice nvas no thunder to their ears : his eye fent forth no death.
The firft ages of fociety are not the times of arbitrary power.
As the wants of mankind are few, they retain their inde-
pendence. It is an advanced ftate of civilization that moulds
the mind to that fubmiffion to government, of which ambi-
tious magiftrates take advantage, and raife themfelves into
abfolute power."

It is a vulgar error, that the common Highlandei's lived,
in abjedl flavery, under their chiefs. Their high ideas of, and
attachment to, the heads of their families, probably, led the
unintelligent into this miftake. When the honour of the
tribe was concerned, the commands of the chief were obeyed,
without reftriction : but, if individuals were oppreired, they
threv>' themfelves into the arms of a neighbouring clan, af-
fumed a new name, and were encouraged and protefted. The
fear of this defertion, no doubt, made the chiefs cautious in
their government. As their confequence, in the eyes of
others, was in proportion to the number of their people, they
took care to avoid every thing that tended to diminifli it.

Itwasbutvery lately that the authority of the lawsextended
to the Highlands. Before that time the clans were governed,
in civil affairs, not by the verbal commands of the chief, but
by what they called Clechda, or the traditional precedents of
their anceftors. When differences happened between indi-
viduals, fome of the oldell men in the tribe were chnfcn
umpires between the parties, to decide according to the
Clechda. The cliief interpofed his authority, and. Invariably,
enforced the decifion. In their wars, which were frequent,

on

BookVL An epic poem. 129

" Where is the fon of Selma, he who led ia
war? I behold not his fteps, among my people,
returning from the field. Fell the young bound-
ing roe, who was fo ftately on my hills ? He fell ;
for ye are filent. The fliield of war is cleft in
twain. Let his armour be near to Fingal -, and the
fwbrd of dark-brown Luno. I am waked on my
hills; with morning I defcend to war."

High * on Cormul's rock, an oak is flaming
to the wind. The grey fkircs of mifl: are roiled
around i thither ftrode the king in his wrath.

Diftant

'on account of family-feucis, the chief was lefs referved in th-
execution of his authority ; and even then he feldoni extended
■it to the taking the life of any of his tribe. No crime wss
capital, except murder ; and that was very unfrequent in the
Highhmds. No corporal punilhment, of any kind, was in-
■fli^ed. The memory of an aifront of this fort would remain,
for ages, in a family, and they would feize every opportunity
to be revenged, unlefs it came'immediately from the hands of
the chief himfclf ; in that cafe it was taken, rather as a fa-
therly corre*5iion, than a legal puniihnient for offences.

* This rock of Cormul is often mentioned in the preceding
part of the poem. It was on it Fingal and Offian Rood to vkw
the battle. The cullom of retiring from the army, on the
night prior to their engaging in battle, was univerfal among
the kings of the Caledonians. Trcnmor, the moft renowned
of the anceftors of Fingal, Is mentioned as the firft who infti-
tuted this curtom. Succeeding bards attributed it to a hero
X)f a latter period. In aa old poem, which begins with Mac-
Arcath na ceudfrol, this cuRom of retiring h'ora the army, bo-
fore an engagement, is numbered, among the wife inftitutions
of Fergus, the fon of Arc cr Arcath, the hrft king of S wts. T

Vol. II. K ' i'hiil

13© T E M O R A : Book VI.

Diflant from the hoft he always lay, when battle
burnt within his foul. On two fpears hung his
fhield on high ; the gleaming fign of death -y that
ihield, which he was wont to ftrikc, by night,
before he rufhed to war. It was then his war-
riors knew, when the king was to lead in (trife j
for never was this buckler heard, till the wrath
of Fingal arofe. "Unequal were his fteps on high,
as he flione in the beam of the oak; he was
dreadful as the form of the fpirit of nighr, when
he deaths, on hills, his wild geftures with mifl:,
and, iffuing forth, on the troubled ocean, mounts
the car of winds.

Nor fettled, from the ftorm, is Erin's fea
of war i they glitter, beneath the moon, and,
low-humming, flill roll on the field. Alone
are tlie fteps of Cathmor, before them on the
heath ; he hangs forward, with all his arms, on
Morven's flying hoft. Now had he come to the
moiTy cave, where Fillan lay in night. One tree
v-as bent above the fcrcam, which glittered over
the rock. There fnone to the moon the broken

Ili.iil licre tranflatc tlip pitlihge ; in Ibmc other note I in.iy,
probably, give all ihut renuiins of the poem. Fergus of the
tundrcd JireamSfJon cf Arcath ivho fought of old : thou didji firji
retire at night : ivhen the foe rolled before thec^ in echoing fields.
Aor- iendi/!"- in rejl is the king: he gathers battles in his foul. Fly^
{on of the f ranger .' nvith morn he fi.'all rujh abroad. When, or
bv whom, thi:^ pccm was written, is uncctLaiu.

Ihield

Book VI. An E P I C POEM, 131

fhield of Clatho's Ton ; and near it, on gr.ifs, lay
hairy-footed Bran *. He had mifTed the chief
on Mora, and fearched him along the wind.
He thought that the blue-eyed hunter flept j he
lay upon his Ihield. No blaft came over the
heath, unknown to bounding Bran.

Cathmor faw the white-breafted dog ; he
faw the broken fhield. Barknefs is blown back
on his foul; he remembers the falling away of
the people. They come, a flream ; are rolled
awayj another race fucceeds. " But fome mark
the fields, as they pafs, v/ith their own mighty

* I remember to have met with an old poem, wJicrcin a
ftory of this fort is very happily introduced. In one of tlio;
invafions of the Danes, Ullin-clundn, a confiderable chief,
on the weftern coaft of Scotland, was killed in a rencounter
Tvith a flying 'party of the enemy, who had landed, at no
great diftance> from the place of his refidence. The fe\7
followers who attended him were alfo flain. The young wife
of Ullin-clundu, who had not heard of his fall, fearing the
worft, on account of his long delay, alarmed the reft of h;-;
tribe, who went in fearch of him along the Ihore. They di.i
not find him ; and the beautiful widow became difconiclate.
At length he was difcovered, by means of his dog, who iiit
on a rock bcfide the body, for fome days. The ftanza con-
cerning the dog, whofe name was Du-chos, ov BIac'--'-c!, is
defcriptive.

" Dark-f ded Duchos ! feet of wind ! cold is thy feat o-
rocks. He (the dog) fees the roe : his ears are high ; an 1
half he bounds away. He looks around ; but Ullin flccps ;
he droops again his head. The winds come pall ; dark Du-
chos thinks that Ullin's voice is there. But Riil he b:houi.j
him filent, laid amidft the Avaving heath. Dark-fided i^.i-
cho-;, his voice no more Ihall fend ^hcc over the heath !"

K 2 nam •

132 T E M O R A: Book VI.

names. The heath, through dark-brown years,
is theirs; feme blu' flream winds to their fame.
Of thefe be the cr.ief of Atha, when he lays him
down on earth. Often may the voice of future
times meet Cathmor in the air : when he ftrides
from wind to wind, or folds himfelf in the wing
of a ftorm."

Green Erin gathered round the king, to hear
the voice of his pov/er. Their joyful faces bend,
unequal, forward, in the light of the oak. They
who were terrible were removed: Lubar* winds
again in their hoft. Cathmor was that beam
from heaven which fhone when his people were
dark. He was honoured in the midft. Their
fouls rofe with ardour around. The king alone
no gladnefs Ihewed ; no ftranger he to war!

" Why is the king fo fad," faid Malthos eagle-
eyed ? " Remains there a foe at Lubar? Lives

* In order to illufiirate this pafl^ige, it is proper to lay be-
fore the reader the fcene of the two preceding battles. Be-
tween the hills of Mora and Lona lay the plain of Moi-lcna,
through which ran the river Lubar. The firft battle, wherein
Gaul, the fon of Morni, commanded on the Caledonian
fide, was fought on the banks of Lubar. As there was lit-
tle advantage obtained on either fide, the armies, after the
battle, retained their former pofitions.

In the fccond battle, wherein Fillan commanded, the Irifli,
after the fall of Foldath, were driven up the hill of Lona ;
but, upon the coming of Cathmor to their aid, they regainei!
their former fituation, and drove back the Caledonians, in
their turn : fo that Lubar winded again in their kcjl,

there

Book VI. An EPIC POEM. 132

there among them, who can life the f^ear ? Not
fo peaceful was thy father, Borbar-duthul *,
king of fpears. His rage was a fire that al-
ways burned : his joy over fallen foes was great.
Three days feafted the grey-haired hero, when
he heard that Calmar fell : Calmar, who aided
the race of Ullin, from Lara of the ftreams.
Often did he feel, with his hands, the fteel
which, they faid, had pierced his foe. He felt
it with his hands, for Borbar-duthul's eyes had
failed. Yet was the king a fun to his friends;
a gale to lift their branches round. Joy was
around him in his halls : he loved the fons of

* Borbar-duthul, the father of Cathmor, was the brother
of that Colc-ulla, who is faid, in the beginning of the foui'th
book, to have rebelled againil Cormac king of Ireland.
Borbar-duthul feems to have retained all the prejudice of his
family againil the fucceffion of the pofterlly of Conar, on the
Irilh throne. From this ihort epifptic we learn fome fadts
which tend to throw light on the hiftory of the times. It ap-
pears, that, when Swaran invaded Ireland, he was only op-
pofed by the Gael, who polfeffcd Ulftcr, and the north of that
ifland. Calmar, the fon of Matha, whofe gallant behaviour
and death are related in the third book of Fingal, was the
only chief of the race of the Fir-bolg, that joined the Cacl, or
Irifh CiUedonians, during the invaiion of Swaran. The inde-
cent joy, which Borbar-duthul exprclTcd, upon the death of
Calmar, is well fuited with that fpirit of revenge, which fub-
fifted, univerfally, in every country where the feudal f\ flcm
was eflablilhed. It would appear that fome perfon had car-
ried to Borbar-duthul that weapon, wiih which, it was pre-
tended, Calmar Jiad been killed.

K 2 Bolga.

131 T E M O R A: Book VL

Bolga. His name remains in Atha, like the aw-
iu\ memory of ghofts, whofe prefence was ter-
lible, but they blew the ftorm away. Now let
the voices* of Erin raife the foul of the king ;
lie that flione when war was dark, and laid the
mighty low. Fonar, from that grey-browed
rock, pour the tale of other times : pour it on
^A ;de-f!;irted Erin, as it fettles round."

*' To me," faid Cathmor, " no fong Ihall rife;
ni r Fonar fit on the rock of Lubar. The
mighiy there are laid low. Difturb not their
rui'liing gliofls. Far, Makhos, far remove the
^o-jnd of Erin's fong. I rejoice not over the
Ice, when he ceafes to lift the fpear. "With
morning we pour our flrength abroad. Fingal
lb wakened on his echoing hill."

Like waves, blown back by fudden winds,
Erin retired, at the voice of the king. Deep-
rolled into the field of night, they fpread their
humming tribes. Beneath his own tree, at in-
tervals, each t bard fat down with his harp.

They

* Tf:c Hjoices of Evin, a poetical cxpreffjcn for the bards of
Trcinnd.

t Not only the kings, hut every petty chief had anciently
their bards attending them in the field ; and thofe bards, in
proportion to the power of the chiefs, v/ho retained them, had
a aumbcr of inferior bards in their train. Upon folemn occa-
f.ons, ail the bards, in the army, would join in one chorus ;
eithar when they celebrated their vicflories, or lamented the

death

Book VI. An EPIC POEM. 135

They raifed the fong, and touched the firing :
each to the chief he loved. Before a burn-
ing oak Sul-malla touched, at times, the harp.
She touched the harp, and heard, between, the
breezes in her hair. In darknefs near, lay the
king of Atha, beneath an aged tree. The beam
of the oak was turned from him j he faw the
maid, but was not ken. His foul poured forth,

death of a perfon, worthy and renowned, flain In the war.
The words were of the compolition of the arch-bard, retained
by the king himfelf, who generally attained to that high office
on account of his fuperior genius for poetry. As the perfons
of the bards were facred, and the emoluments of their office
confiderable, the order, in fuccceding times, became very
numerous and infolcnt. It would appear, that, after the in-
troduction of Chriftianity, feme ferved in the double capacity
of bards and clergymen. It was, from this circumftancc, that
they had the name of C/V/rf, which is, probably, derived from
the Latin Clericus. The Chlere, be their name derived from
what it will, became, at laft, a public nuifance ; for, taking
advantage of their facred charadter, they went about, in great
bodies, and lived, at difcretion, in the houfes of the chiefs ;
till another party, of the fame order, drove them away by
mere dint of fatire. Some of the indelicate difputes of thele
■worthy poetical combatants are handed down, by tradition,
and fhew how much the bards, at lart, abufcd the privileges,
xvhich the admiration of their countrymen had conferred on
the order. It was this infolent behaviour that induced the
chiefs to retrench their n\imbcr, and to take away thofe privi-
leges which they v/ere no longer worthy to enjoy. Their indo-
lence, and difpofition to lampoon, extinguilhed all the poeti-
fal fervour, which diftinguifhed their prcdecefTors, and makes
tts the lefs regret the extincftlon of the orden

K if in

136 T E M O R A: Book VI.

in fecrct, when he beheld her fearful eye. " But
battle is before thee, fon of Borbar-duthul."

Amidst the harp, at intervals, fhe liflened
v.'luthcr tlie warrior flcpt. Her foul was up;
Die longed, in fecrer, to pour her own fad fong.
The field is filenr. On their wings, the blafts of
night retire. The bards had ceafed ; and me-
teors caniie, red-winding with their ghofts. The
Iky drew dark : the forms of the dead were
blended with the clouds. But heedlefs bends the
daughter of Conmor, over the decaying (lame.
Thou wert alone in her foul, car-borne chief of
Atha. She raifed the voice of the fong, and
touched the harp between.

" Clun-galo* came; flie miffed the maid»
Where art thou, beam of light ? Hunters, from
the -molTy rock, faw ye the blue-eyed fair ?
Are her Heps on graffy Lumon j near the bed of
roes ? Ah me ! I behold her bow in the hall.
"Wh^rc art thou, beam of light ?"

" Cease t, love of Conmor, ceafe ; I hear thee

* Clun-galo, the v.-ifc of Conmor, king of Inis-huna, and
the mother of Sul-malla. She is here rcprefented, as mifTing
her daughter, after Ihc had tied with Cathmor,

r Sai-ma!la replies to the fuppofcdqueflions of her mother.
Towards the middJe of this paragraph flie calls Cathmor i/je
Jhh pf her foul, and continues the metaphor throughout.
This booic ends, we may fuppofc, about the middle c>f the
rhird night, from the opening of the poem.

2 not

Book VI. An EPIC POEM: 137

not on the ridgy heath. My eye is turned to
the king, whole path is terrible in war. He
for whom my foul is up, in the feafon of my
feft. Deep-bofomed in war he (lands, he be-
holds me not from his cloud. Why, fun of Sul-
malla, doft thou not look forth ? I dwell in dark-
nefs here j wide over me flies the fhadowy mift.
Filled with dew are my locks : look thou from
thy cloud, O fun of Sul-malla's foul !'* * * *

T E M O R A

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK VII.

ARGUMENT to Book VII.

This book begins about the middle of the third night from
the opening of the poem. The poet defcribes a kind of
mill, which rofe, by night, from the lake of I^ego, and
was the ufual refidence of the fouls of the dend, during the
Interval between their deceafe and the funeral fong. The
appearance of the ghoft of Fillan above the cave where his
body lay. His voice comes to Fingal, on the rock of Cor-
mul. The king ftrikes the fhield of Ti'enmor, which was
an infallible fign of his appearing in arms himfelf. The
extraordinary elFedt of the found of the fhield. Sui-malla,
ft3.rting from fleep, aAvakes Cathmor. Their affecting dif-
courfe. She infifts with him to fue for peace ; he refolves
to continue the war. He directs her to retire to the neigh-
bouring valley of Lona, which was the refidence of an old
Druid, until the battle of the next day Ihould be over. He
awakes his army with the found of his Ihieid. The fhield
defcribed. Fonar, the bard, at the defire of Cathmor,
»elates the firfk fettlement of the Fir-bolg in Ireland, under
their leader Larthon. Morning comes. Sul-malla retires
to t';i€ valley of Lona. A Lyric fong concludes the book.

t »4I ]

T E M O R A

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK VIL

FROM the wood-fklrted waters of Lego,
afcend, at times, grey-bofomed mills j when
the gates of the weft are clofed, on the fun's
eagle-eye. Wide, over Lara*s Itream, is poured
the vapour dark and deep : the moon, like a
dim Ihield, is fwimming thro' its folds. With
this, clothe the fpirits of old their fudden gef-
tures on the wind, when they ftride, from blafl
to blaft, along the dulky night. Often, blended
with the gale, to fome warrior's grave *, they

roll

* As the mift, which rofe from the lake of Lego, occa-
fioned difeafes and death, the barcis feigned that it was the
refidence of the ghofts of the deccafed, during the interval
between their death, and the pronouncing of the funeral
elegy over theif tombs ; for it was not allowable, without

that

142 T E M O R A: BookVIL

roll the mift, a grey dwelling to his ghofl, until
the fongs arife.

A SOUND came from the defartj it was
Conar, king of Inis-fail. He poured his mift
on the grave of Fillan, at blue-winding Lubar.
Dark and mournful fat the ghoft, in his grey
ridge of fmoak. The blafl:, at times, rolled
him together : but the form returned again. It
returned with bending eyes, and dark winding
of locks of mift.

It was * dark. The fleeping hoft were ftill, in
the fkirts of night. The flame decayed, on the
hill of Fingal ; the king lay lonely on his
fhield. His eyes were half-clofed in fleep ; the
Toice of Fillan came. " Sleeps the hufband of

that ceremony was performed, for the fpirits of the dead to
mix with their anceftors, in their airy halls. It was the bufi-
nefs of the fpirit of the nearefl relation to the deceafed, to
take the mift of Lego, and pour it over the grave. We find
here Conar, the fon of Trenmor, the firft king of Ireland,
performing this office for Fillan, as it was in the caufe of the
family of Conar that that hero was killed.

* The following is the fmgular fentiment of a frigid bard :

" More pleafing to me is the night of Cona, dark-ftream-

ing from Offian's harp ; more pleafant it is to me, than a

white-bofomed dweller between my arms ; than a fair-handed

daughter of heroes, in the hour of reft."

Though tradition is not very fatisfadory concerning the
hiftory of this poet, it has taken care to inform us, that he
was "very old when he wrote the dilUch, a circumftance, which
we might have fuppofcd, without the aid of tradition.

Clatho.?

BookVII. An epic poem. 143

Clatho ? Dwells the father of the fallen in reft ?
Am I forgot in the folds of darknefs; lonely ia
the feafon of night ?'*

" Why doft thou mix,'* faid the king, " with
the dreams of thy father ? Can I forget thee, my
fon, or thy path of fire in the field ? Not fuch
come the deeds of the valiant on the foul of
Fingal. They are not there a beam of light-
ning, which is feen, and is then no more. I
remember thee, O Fillan 1 and my wrath begins
to rife."

The king took his deathful fpear, and ftruck
the deeply-founding fhield : his Ihield that hung
high in night, the difmal fign of war ! Ghofts fled
on every fide, and rolled their gathered forms on
the wind. Thrice from the winding vale arofc
the voice of deaths. The harps * of the bards,
untouched, found mournful over the hill.

* It was the opinion of ancient times, that, on the night
preceding the death of a perfon worthy and renowned, the
harps of thofe bards, who were retained by his family, emit-
ted melancholy founds. This was attributed to tie light touch
ef ghojls ; who were fuppofed to have a fore-knowledge of
events. The fame opinion prevailed long in the north, and
the particular found was called, the learning 'voice of the dead.
The voice of death, mentioned in the preceding fentence, was
of a different kind. Each perfon v/as fuppofed to have aa
attendant fpirit, who afiumed his form an<l voice, on th»
night preceding his death, and appeared, to fome, in thf
attitude, in which the perfon was to die. The voice; of
BEAT H were the foreboding ihrieks of thofe fpirlts.

Hz

J44 T E M O R A: Book VIL

He (Iruck again the Ihield ; battles rofe in
the dreams of his hoft. The wide-tumbling
ftrife is gleaming over their fouls. Blue-fhielded
kings defcend to war. Backward-looking armies
fly; and mighty deeds are half-hid, in the
bright gleams of fleel.

But when the third found arofe, deer ftarted
from the clefts of their rocks. The fcreams of
fowl are heard, in the defart, as each flew,
frighted on his blaft. The fons of Selma
half-rofe, and half-aflumed their fpears. But
filence rolled back on the hoft : they knew the
fliield of the king. Sleep returned to their eyes ;
the field was dark and ftill.

No fleep was thine in darknefs, blue-eyed
daughter of Conmor ! Sul-malla heard the
dreadful fliield, and rofe, amid the night. Her
Heps are towards the king of Atha. " Can dan-
ger fliake his daring foul !" In doubt, flie ftands,
with bending eyes. Heaven burns with all its
Aars.

Again the fliield refounds ! She ruOied. She
ftopt. Her voice half-rofe. Ic failed. She faw
him, amidft his arms, that gleamed to heaven's
fire. She faw him dim in his locks, that rofe
to nightly wind. Away, for fear, flie turned
her fteps. " Why ftiould the king of Erin

awake ?

Book VII. An EPIC POEM. 145

awake ? Thou art not a dream to his reft,
daughter of Inis-huna."

More dreadful rings the Ihield. Sul-malla
ftarts. Her helmet falls. Loud echoes Lubar's
rock, as over it rolls the fteel. Burfting from
the dreams of night, Cathmor half-rofe, beneath
his tree. He faw the form of the maid, above
him, on the rock. A red ftar, with twinkling
beam, looked thro' her floating hair.

" Who comes thro* night to Cathmor, in the
feafon of his dreams ? Bring'ft thou aught of
war ? Who art thou, fon of night ? Stand'ft
thou before me, a form of the times of old ? A
voice from the fold of a cloud, to warn me of the
danger of Erin ?"

** Nor lonely fcout am I, nor voice from
folded cloud," fhc faid j " but I warn thee of
the danger of Erin. Doft thou hear that found ?
It is not the feeble, kingof Atha, that rolls his
figns on night."

" Let the warrior roll his figns," he replied ;
" to Cathmor they are the founds of harps. My
joy is great, voice of night, and burns over all my
thoughts. This is the mufic of kings, on lonely
hills, by night; when they light their daring
fouls, the fons of mighty deeds ! The feeble dwell
alone, in the valley of the breeze; where mifts

Vol. II, L life

146 T E M O R A: Book Vlf.

life their morning fkirts, from the blue-winding
flreams."

" Not feeble, king of men, were they, the
fathers of my race. They dwelt in the folds of
battle, in their diftant lands. Yet delights not'
my foul, in the figns of death ! He *, who
never yields, comes forth : C) fend the bard of
peace !"

Like a dropping rock, in the defart, flood
Cathmor in his tears. Her voice came, a breeze,
on his foul, and waked the memory of her land ;
where fhe dwelt by her peaceful ftreams, before
he came to the war of Conmor.

" Daughter of ftrangers," he faid ((he
trembling turned away), " long have I marked
thee in thy free], young pine oF Inis-huna. But
my foul, 1 faid, is folded in a ftorm. Why
fhould that beam arife, till my fteps return in
peace ? Have I been pale in thy prefence, as
thou bidft me to fear the king ? The time of

* Fingal is faid to have never been overcome in battle.
From this proceeded that title of honour which is always
bellowed on him in tradition, F ion gal na huai\ Fingal of
VICTORIES. In a pcem, juft now in my hands, which cele-
brates fome of the great actions of Arthur the famous Britilh
hero, that appellation is often l>e{lowed on him. The poem,
from the phrafeolAg^/, appears to be ancient ; and is, per-
liaps, tho' that is not mentioned, a tranflation from theWelfh
language.

dange.".

BookVII. An epic poem. 147

danger, O maid, is the feafon of my foul; for
then it fwclls, a mighty dream, and rglls me on
the foe."

" Beneath the mofs- covered rock of Lona,
near his own loud ftream ; grey in his locks of
age, dwells Cionmal * king of harps. Above
him is his echoing tree, and the dun bounding
of roes. The noife of our flrife reaches his
car, as he bends in the thoughts of years. There
let thy reft be, Sul-malla, until our battle ceafe.
Until I return, in my arms, from the fkirts of
the evening mift, that rifcs, on Lona, round
the dwelling of my love."

A LIGHT fell on the foul of the maid; it rofe
kindled before the king. She turned her face to
Cathmor, from amidft her waving locks. " Sooner
Ihall the eagle of heaven be torn, from the
ftream of his roaring wind, when he fees the
dun prey, before him, the young fons of the
bounding roe, than thou, O Cathmor, be turned
from the ftrife of renown. Soon may I fee
thee, warrior, from the fkirts of the evening

* Claon-mal, crooked rye-hrcw. From the retired life oft.his
perfon, is infmuated, that he was of the order of the Druids ;
which fuppofition is not, at all, invalidated by the appella-
tion of king of harps, here bellowed on hixn ; for all agree that
the bards were of the number of the Drul Js originally.

L 2 niiftj,

148' T E M O R A : Book VII.

mifl:, when it is rolled around me, on Lona of
the ftreams. While yet thou art diflant far,
ftrike, Cathmor, ftrike the fhield, that joy may
return to my darkened foul, as I lean on the
mofly rock. But if thou fhouldft fall, I am in
the land of flrangers ; O fend thy voice, from
thy cloud, to the maid of Inis-huna !"

" Young branch of green-headed Lumon,
why dofl; thou (hake in the ftorm ? Often has Cath-
mor returned, from darkly-rolling wars. The
darts of death are but hail to me; they have often
rattled along my fhield. I have rifen bright-
ened from battle, like a meteor from a flormy
cloud. Return not, fair beam, from thy vale,
when the roar of battle grows. Then might the
foe efcape, as from my fathers of old.

" They told toSon-mor*, ofClunarf, who
was flain by Cormac in fight. Three days dark-
ened Son-mor, over his brother's fall. His
fpoufc beheld the filent king, and forefaw his
fbeps to war. She prepared the bow, in fecret,

* Son-mor, tall handfome man. He was the father of Bor-
bar-duthul, chief of Atha, and grandfather to Cathmor him-
felf.

■^ Cluan-er, man of the field. This chief was killed in
battle bv Cormac Mac-Conar, king of Ireland, the father of
Ros-crana, the firft wife of Fingal. The {lory is alluded to
ia fomc ancient pocias.

to

Book VII. An EPIC POEM. 149

to attend her bluc-fhielded hero. To her dwelt
darkaefs, at Atha, when he was not there.
From their hundred ftreams, by night, poured
down thefons of Alnccma. They had heard the
ihield of the king, and their rage arofe. In
clanging arnns, they moved along, towards
Ullin of the groves. Son-mor ftruck his fliield,
at times, the leader of the war.

*' Far behind followed Sul-allin *, over the
ftreamy hills. She was a light on the mountain,
when they crolTed the vale below. Her (teps
were ftately on the vale, when they rofe on the
mofly hill. She feared to approach the king,
Avho left her in echoing Atha. But when the
roar of battle rofej wiien hofl was rolled on
hoftj when Son-mor burnt, like the fire of
heaven in clouds, with her fpreading hair came
Sul-allin ; for Ihe tremble'd for her king. He
Hopt the rulhing ftrife to fave the love of heroes.
The foe fled by night j Clunar flept without his
blood J the blood which ought to be poured
upon the warrior's tomb.

«' Nor rofe the rage of Son-mor, but his days
were filent and dark. Sul-allin wandered, by
her grey ftreams, with her tearful eyes. Ofcen
did fhe look, on the hero, when he was folded

* Suil-alluin, beautiful J the wife pf Son-mor.

L 3 in

150 T E M O R A: Book VII.

in his thoughts. But fhe fhrunk from his eyes,
and turned her lone fteps away. Battles rofe,
like a tempeft, and drove the mid from his
foul. He beheld, with joy, her fteps in the
hall, and the white rifing of her hands on the
harp."

* In his arms ftrode the chief of Atha, to where
his fhield hung, high, in night : high on a moffy
bough, over L.ubar's dreamy roar. Seven boflTes
rofe on the fhield i the feven voices of the king,
which his warriors received, from the wind, and
marked over all their tribes.

On each bofs is placed a flar of night j Can-
mathon with beams unfhorn; Coi-derna rifing
from a cloud : Uloicho robed in mift i and the
foft beam of Cathlin glittering on a rock.
Smiling, on its own blue v/ave, Reldurath
half-finks its weftern light. The red eye of Ber-
thin looks, thro' a grove, on the hunter, as he
returns, by night, with the fpoils of the bound-

* To avoid multiplying notes, I lliall give here the fignifi-
cation of the names of the ftars, engraved on the fhield. Cean-
mathon, head of the hear. Col-derna, y7^«/ and Jharp beam.
Ul-oicho, ruler of night . Q-AthWn, heam of theiva^e Reul-
d\xi'^X.]\, far cf the tivilight. Bcrth'm, f re of the hill . Ton-
thena, meteor of the ^va-ves. Thefe etymologies, excepting
that of Ccanmathon, are pretty exa<5t. Of it I am not fo cer-
tain ; for it is not very probable, that the Firbolg had diflin-
guilhed a cpnllt:llation, fo very early as the days of Larthon,
hj the name of the bcaj-.

ing

Book VII. An EPIC POEM. 151

in.7 roe. Wide, in the midft, arofe die cloud-
Ids beams of Ton-thcna, that ftar which looked,
by night, on tlie courfe of the fea-toiled Lar-
thon : Larthon, the firfl: of Bolga's race, who
travelled on the winds*. White-bofomed fpread
the fails of the king, towards ftreamy Inis-fail;
dun night was rolled before hinn, with its fkirts
of mift. Unconftant blew the winds, and rolled
him from wave to wave. Then rofe the fiery-
haired Ton-thena, and fmiled from her parted
cloud. Larthon j" bleffed the well-known beam,
as it faint-gleamed on the deep.

Beneath

* To travel on the ivinds, a poetical expreffion for failing.

-j- Larthon is compounded of Leary fca, and thon, wave;
Tliis name was given to the chief of the nrft colony of the
Firbolg, who fettled in Ireland, on account of his knowledge
in navigation. A part of an old poem is Aill extant, con-
cerning this hero. It abounds with thofe romantic fables of
giants and magicians, wiiich dillinguifhed the compofitions
of the lefs ancient bards. The defcriptions, coatained in it,
are ingenious, and proportionable to the magnitude of the
perfons introduced ; but, being unnatural, they are infipid
and tedious. Had the bard kept within the bounds of pro-
bability, his genius was far from being contemptible. The
exordium of his poem is not deftitute of merit ; but it is the
only part of it, that I think worthy of being prefcnted to the
reader.

" Who firft: font the black fliip, thro' ocean, like a whale

thro' the buriling of foam ? Look, from thy darknefs, on

Cronath, Offian of the harps of old ! Send thy light on the

blue-rolling waters, that I may behold the king. I fee him

L 4 dark

152 T E M O R A: Book VIL

Beneath the fpear of Cathmor, rofe that
voice which awakes the bards. They came,
dark-winding, from every fide; each with the
found of his harp. Before them rejoiced the
king, as the traveller, in the day of the fun ;
when he hears, far-rolling around, the murmur
of mofly ftreams j ftreams that burft, in the de-
fart, from the rock of roes.

" Why," faid Fonar, " hear we the voice of
the king, in the feafon of his reft ? Were the dim
forms of thy fathers bending in thy dreams ?
Perhaps they Hand on that cloud, and wait for
Fonar's fong j often they come to the fields
where their fons are to lift the fpear. Or fliall
our voice arife for him who lifts the fpear no
more ; he that confumed the field, from Moma
of the groves ?

" Not forgot is that cloud in war, bard
of other times. High fhall his tomb rife, on
Moi-lena, the dwelling of renown. But, now.

dark in his own fliell of oak ! fea-tofTed Larthon, thy foul is
ftrong. It is carelefs as the wind of thy fails ; as the wave
t"hat rolls by thy fide. But the filcnt green iflc is before thee,
with its fons, who are tall as woody Lumon ; Lumon which
iends from its top, a thoufand llrcanis, white-wandering
down its fides."

It may, perhaps, be for the credit of this bard, to tranflate
no more of this poem, for the continuation of his defcription
of the Irifli giants betrays his want of judgment.

roll

Book VII. An EPIC POEM. 153

roll back my foul to the times of my fathers :
to the years when firft they rofe, on Inis-huna's
waves. Nor alone pleafant to Cathmor is the
remembrance of wood-covered Lumon, Lumon
of the flreams, the dwelling of white-bofomed
maids.

<« Lumon * of the ftreams, thou rifeft on Fo-
nar's foul ! Thy fun is on thy fide, on the rocks
of thy bending trees. The dun roe is fcen
from thy furze; the deer lifts his branchy head;
for he fees, at times, the hound, on the half-
covered heath. Slow, on the vale, are the fleps
of maids ; the white-armed daughters of the
bow : they lift their blue eyes to the hill, from
amidft their wandering locks. Not there is the
ftride of Larthon, chief of Inis-huna. He
mounts the wave on his own dark oak, in Cluba*s
ridgy bay. That oak which he cut from Lu^
mon, to bound along the fea. The maids turn
their eyes away, left the king Ihould be lowly-
laid ; for never had they fecn a Ihip, dark rider
of the wave !

" Now he dares to call the winds, and to mix
with the mift of ocean. Blue Inis-fail rofe, in

* Lumon was a liill, in Inis-huna, near the refidence of
Sul-maila. This epifode has an immediate connexion with
what is faid of Larthon, in the dcfcription of Cathmor* »,
(hicld.

fmoak.;

154 T E M O R A: Book VII.

fmoak J but dark-lkirted night came down. The
fons of Bolga feared. The fiery haired Ton-
thena rofe. Culbin's bay received the fliip, in
the bofom of its echoing woods. There, iflued
a ftreann, from Duthuma's horrid cavej where
fpirits gleamed, at times, with their half-finifhed
forms.

" Dreams defcended on Larthon : he faw
feven fpirits of his fathers. He heard their
half-formed words, and dimly beheld the times
to come. He beheld the kings of Atha, the
fons of future days. They led their hofts,
along the field, like ridges of mill, which
winds pour, in autumn, over Atha of the
groves.

" Larthon raifed the hall of Samla*, to
the mufic of the harp. He went forth to the
roes of Erin, to their wonted ftreams. Nor
did he forget green-headed Lumon j he often
bounded over his feas, to where white-handed
Flathal f looked from the hill of roes. Lu-
mon of the foamy ftreams, thou rifeft on Fonar's
foul 1"

Morning pours from the eafi:. The mifty
heads of the mountains rife. Valleys fliew, on

* Samla, apparitions, lb called from the vlfion of Larthon,
concerning his pofterity.

f Flathal, hea'venly, e/cquijitely beautiful. She was the wift
of Larthon.

3 «very

Book VII. An EPIC i^OEM. 155^

every fide, the grey-winding of their IVreams.
His hoft heard the Ihield of Cathmor : at once
they fofe around ; like a crowded fea, when
firft it feels the wings of the wind. The waves
know not whither to roll j they lift their
troubled heads.

Sad and flow retired Sul-malla to Lona of the
ftreams. She went, and often turned j her blue
eyes rolled in tears. But when flie came to the
rock, that darkly-covered Lona's vale, flic
looked, from her burlting foul, on the kino- j
and funk, at once, behind.

Son of Alpin, fl:rike the firing. Is there
aught of joy in the harp ? Pour it then on
the foul of Ofllan : it is folded in mid. I
hear thee, O bard ! in my night. But ceafe
the lightly-trembling found. The joy of grief
belongs to Ofllan, amidft his dark-brown
years.

Green thorn of the hill of ghoft:s, that
ihakefl: thy head to nightly winds ! I hear no
found in theej is there no fpirit's windy flcirt
now ruftling in thy leaves ? Often are the fleps
of the dead, in the dark-eddying blaftsi when
the moon, a dun fliield, from the eaft, is rolled
along the fky.

Ullin, Carril, and Ryno, voices of the
days of old ! Let me hear you, while yet it is

dark.

156 T E M O R A: Book VII,

dark, to plcafc and awake my foul. I hear
you not, ye fons of fong ; in what hall of the
clouds is your reft ? Do you touch the fliadowy
harp, robed with morning mift, where the ruft-
ling fun comes forth from his green-headed
waves i

T E M O R A

AN

EPIC POEM.

BOOK VIII.

ARGUMENT to Book VIII.

The fourth morning, from the opening of the poem, comes
on. Fingal, ftill continuing in the place, to which he had
retired on the preceding night, is feen, at intervals, thro'
the mill, \yhigh covered the rock of Cormul, The defcent
cf the king is defcribed. He orders Gaul, Deniiid, and
Carril the bard, to go to the valley of Cluna, and conduct,
from thence, to the Caledonian army, Ferad-artho, the
fon of Cairbre, the only perfon remaining of the family of
Conar, the firft king of Ireland. The king takes the com-
mand of the army, and prepares for battle. Marching
towatd$ the enemy, he comes to the cave of I^ubar, where
the body of Fillan lay. Upon feeing his dog Bran, who
lay at the entrance of the cave, his grief returns. Cath-
jnor arranges the Irifh army in order of battle. The ap-
pearance of that hero. The general conflicl is defcribed.
The aflions of Fingal and Qathmor. A ftorm. The total
rout of the F+rfeolg. Thetwo kings engage, in a column
of mift, on the banks of Lubar. Their attitude and con-
ference after the combat. The death of Cathmor. Fingal
refigns the /pear of Trenmor to Offian. The ceremonies ob-
ferved on that occafion. The fpirit cf Cathmor, in the
mean time, appears to Sul-malla, in the valley of Lona.
Her forrow. Evening comes on. A feaft is prepared.
The coming of Ferad-artho is announced by the fongs of
an hundred bards. The poem clofes with a fpeech of
Finsal.

I '59 ]

T E M O R A

A N

EPIC POEM.

BOOK VIII.

AS when the wintry winds have feized the
waves of the mountain-lakcj have feized
them, in ftornny night, and cloathed them over
with icc; white, to the hunter's early eye, the
billows dill feem to roll. He turns his ear to the
found of each unequal ridge. But each is filent,
gleaming, ftrewn with boughs and tufts of grafs,
which (hake and whittle to the wind, over their
grey feats of froft. So filent (hone to the morn-
ing the ridges of Morven's hoft, as each warrior
looked up from his helmet towards the hill of
the kingi the cloud-covered hill of Fingal,
where he ftrode, in the folds of mill. At times
is the hero feen, greatly dim in all his arms.

From

i6o T E M O R A: Book VIIF.

From thought to thought rolled the war, along
his mighty foul.

Now is the coming forth of the king. Firft
appeared the fword of Luno j the fpear half
ilTuing from a cloud, the (hield dill dim in mift.
But when the ftride of the king came abroad,
with all his grey, dewy locks in the wind ; then
rofe the ihouts of his hoft over every moving tribe.
They gathered, gleaming, round, with all their
echoing fliields. So rife the green feas round a
fpirit, that comes down from the fqually wind.
The traveller hears the found afar, and lifts his
head over the rock. He looks on the troubled
bay, and thinks he dimly fees the form. The
waves fport, unwieldy, round, with all their
backs of foam.

Far-distant ftood the fon of Morni, Duth-
no's race, and Cona's bard. We ftood far-
diftant; each beneath his tree. We fhunned the
eyes of the king j we had not conquered in the
field. A little ftream rolled at my feet : I
touched its light wave, with my fpear. I touched
it with my fpear; nor there was the foul of
OfTian. It darkly rofe, from thought to thought,
and fent abroad the figh.

" Son of Morni," faid the king, " Dermid,
hunter of roes ! why are ye dark, like two rocks,
each with its trickling waters ? No wrath gathers

on

BookVIII. An epic POEM. i6i

on Fingal's foul, again ft the chiefs of men. Ye
are my ftrength in battle; the kindling of my
joy in peace. My early voice has been a plea-
fant gale to your ears, when Fillan prepared the
bow. The fon of Fingal is not here, nor yet the
chace of the bounding roes. But why fhould
the breakers of fhlelds ftand, darkened, far
away ?"

Tall they ftrode towards the king; they faw
him turned to Mora's wind. His tears came
down, for his blue-eyed fon, who flept in the
cave of ftreams. But he brightened before them,
and fpoke to tlie broad-fhielded kings.

" Crommal, with woody rocks, and mifty top,
the field of winds, pours forth, to the fighr,
blue Lubar's ftreamy roar. Behind it rolls
clear-winding Lavath, in the ftill vale of deer.
A cave is dark in a rock ; above it ftrong-winged
eagles dwell ; broad-headed oaks, before it,
found in Cluna's wind. Within, in his locks of
youth, is Ferad-artho *, blue-eyed king, the foa

of

* Fcrad-artho was the Ton of Cairbar Mac-Cormac king of
Ireland. He was the only one remaining of the race of Conar,
the fon of Trenmor, the firft Irifh monarch, according to
Oflian. In order to make this paffage thoroughly underftood,
it may not be improper to recapitulate fome part of what has
been faid in preceding notes. Upon the death of Conar the
fon of Trenmor, his fonCormac fucceeded on the Irifh throne.
Cormac reigned long. His children were, Cairbar, who fuc-

VoL. II. M ccedei

,i62 T E M O R A: BookVIIL

of broad-fliielded Calrbar, from Ullin of the
roes. He liltens to the voice of Condan, as,
grey, he bends in feeble light. He liftens, for
his foes dwell in the echoing halls of Temora.

He

ceeded him, and Ros-craiia, the firft wife of Fingal. Cair-
bar, long before the death of his tather Cormac, had taken
to wife Bos-gala, the daughter of Colgar, one of the moft
powerful chiefs in Connaught, and had, by her, Artho,
afterwards king of Ireland. Soon after Artho arrived at man's
eftate, his mother Bos-gala died, and Cairbar married Bel-
tanno, the daughter of Conachar of .Ullin, who brought him
a fon, whom he called Ferad-artho, i. e. a man in the place of
Artho. The occafion of the name was this : Artho, when his
brother was born, was abfent, on an expedition, in the fouth
of Ireland. A falfe report was brought to his father, that he
Avas killed. Cairbar, to ufe the words of a potm on the fub-
jeft, darkened for his fair-haired fon. He turned to the young
beam of light, the fon of Baltanno of Conachar. Thou JJ:alt be
Faradartho, he /aid, a fire before thy race. Cairbar, foon
after, died, nor did Artho long furvive him. Artho was fuc-
ceeded, in the Irifh throne, by his fon Cormac, who, in his
ininority,wasmurderedbyCairbar,thefonof Borbar-duthul.
Ferad-artho, fays tradition, was very young, when the expe-
^lition of Fingal, to fettle him on the throne of Ireland, hap-
pened. During the Ihort reign of young Cormac, Ferad-
urtho lived at the royal refidence of Temora. Upon the murder
of the king, Condan, the bard, conveyed Ferad-artho, pri-
vately, to the cave of Cluna, behind the mountain Crommal, in
Ulfter, where they both lived concealed, during the ufurpation
of the family of Atha. A late bard has delivered the whole
hiftory, in a poem juft now in my poffeffion. It has little me-
rit, if we except the fcene between Ferad-artho, and the mef-
fengers of Fingal, upon their arrival, in the valley of Cluna.
After hearing of the great anions of Fingal, the young prince
propofes the following queflions concerning him, to Gaul aiid
Dcrmid : '• Is the king tail us the rock of my cave? Is his

fpear

Book: VIII. Am EPIC POEM. if^

He comes, at times, abroad, in the fkircs of
mifl:, to pierce the bounding rocs. When the
fun looks on the field, nor by the rock, nor
ftream, is he! He (huns the race of Bolga, who
dwell in his father's hall. Tell him, that Fingal
lifts the fpear, and that his foes, perhaps, may-
fail."

" Lift up, O Gaul, the Shield before him.
Stretch, Dermid, Temora*s fpear. Be thy voice
in his car, O Carril, with the deeds of his fa-i-
thers. Lead him to green Moi-lena, to the dufky
field of ghoflsj for there, I fall forward, in
battle, in the folds of war. Before dun night de-"
fcends, come to hJgh Dunmora's top. Look,
from the grey Ikirts of mifl:, on Lena of th^
ftreams. If there my ftandard fliall float on
wind, over Lubar's glcaniing ftream, then haj
not Fingal failed in the lall of his fields."

Such were his words; nor aughc replied the
filent, ftriding kings. They looked fide-long,
on Erin's hofl, and darkened, as taey went.
Never before had they left the king, in the midft
of the flormy fi«ld. Behind them, touching ac

fpear a fir of CI una ? Is he a rough .winged biaft, on the moun-.
tain, which takes the green oak by the head, and tears it
from its hill? Glitters Lubar within his Itridc, when he fends
his ftately fteps along. Nor is he tall, faid Gaul, as that
fock : nor glitter ftrearns within his ftridcs, but his foul is a
mighty 4ood, like the ftrength of UUin's feas."

M 2 tiraes

i64 T E M O R A: Book VIIL

times his harp, the grey-haired Carril moved.
He forefaw the fall of the people, and mournful
was the found ! It was like a breeze that comes-,
by fits, over Lego's reedy lakej when fleep half-
defcends on the hunter, within his moffy cave.

" Why bends the bard of Cona," faid Fin^al,
« over his fecret flream? Is this a time forforrow,
father of low-laid Ofcar ? Be the warriors'* re-
membered in peace; when echoing fhiclds are
heard no more. Bend, then, in grief, over the

* Malvina is fiippofed to fpeak the following foliloquy ;

" Malvina is like the bow of the fhower, in the fecret val-
ley of ftreams ; it is bright, but the drops of heaven are roll-
ing on Its blended light. They fay, that I am fair within my
locks, but, on my brightnefs, is the wandei'ing of tears.
Darknefs flies over my foul, as the dufky wave of the breeze,
along the grafs of Lutha. Yet have not the roes fiiiled me,
when I moved between the hills. Pleafant, beneath my vi-hite
hand, ai'ofe the found of harps. What then, daughter of Lu-
tha, travels over thy foul,Iikethe dreary path of a ghoft,along
the nightly beam ? Should the young warrior fall, in the roar
•'bf his troubled fields ! Young virgins of Lutha arife, cali
back the wandering thoughts of Malvina. Awake the voice
of the harp, along my echoing vale. Then fliall my foul
come forth, like a light from the gates of the morn, when
clouds are rolled around them, with their broken fides.

" Dweller of my thoughts, by night, whofc form afcends
in troubled fields, why doft thou ftir up my foul, thou far-
diftant fon of the king? Is that the Ihip of my love, its dark
■ courfe through the ridges of ocean ? How art thou fo fudden,
Ofcar, from the heath of fliields ?"

The reft of this poem confifts of a dialogue between UUin
and Malvina, wherein the diArcfs of the latter is carried to
t.'ie highcfl; pilch.

flood.

BookVIIL An epic POEM. 165

flood, where blows the mountain breeze. Let
them pafs on thy foul, the blue-eyed dwellers
of the romb. But Erin rolls to war ; wide-
tumbling, rough, and dark. Lift, Ollian, lift
the fhield. I am alone, my fon !"

As comes the fudden voice of winds to the be-
calmed liiip of Inis-huna, and drives it large,
along the deep, dark rider of the wave ; fo the
voice of Fingal lent Ofllan, tall, along the heath.
He lifted high his fliinlng fliield, in the dufky
wing of war: like the broad, blank moon, in
the Ikirt of a cloud, before the ftorms arife.

Loud, from mols-covered Mora, poured
down, at once, the broad-winged war. Fingal
led his people forth, king of Morven of dreams.
On high fpreads the eagle's wing. His grey hair
is poured on his fhoulders broad. In thunder
are his mighty flrides. He often flood, and
faw behind, the wide-gleaming rolling of armour.
A rock he feemed, grey over with ice, whofe
woods are high in wind. Bright dreams leap
from its head, and fpread their foam on blafts.

Now he came to Lubar's cave, where Fillan
darkly llept. Bran dill lay on the broken
fliield : the eagle-wing is drewed by the winds.
Bright, from withered furze, looked forth the
hero's fpear. Then grief dirred the foul of the
king, like whirlwinds blackening on a lake. He
M 3 turned

166 T E M O R A: BoorVIII.

turned his fudden ftep, and leaned on his bend-
ing fpea 4

White-breasted Bran came bounding with
joy to the known path of Fingal. He came,
and looked towards the cave, where the blue-
eyed hunter lay, for he was wont to ftride, with
morning, to the dewy bed of the roe. It was
then the tears of the king came down, and all
his foul was dark. But as the rifing wind rolls
away the ftorm of rain, and leaves the white
ftreams to the fun, and high hills with their
iieads of grafs : fo the returning war brightened
the mind of Fingal. He bounded *, on his

ipear,

* The Irifti compofltions concerning Fingal invariably
fpeak of him as a giant. Of thefe Hibernian poems there are
now many in my hands. From the language, and allufions
to the times in which they were writ, I ihould fix the date of
iheir compofition in the fifteenth and fixteenth centuries. In
fonie palTages, the poetry is far from wanting merit, but the
fable is unnatural, and the whole conduift of the pieces inju-
dicious. I ■Hiali give one inftance of the extravagant fiftions
of the Irilh bards, in a poem which they, moft unjuftly,
afcribe to Gfilan. The ftory of it is this ; Ireland being
threatened with an invafion from fome part of Scandinavia,
Fingal fent Offian, Ofcar, and Ca-oit, to wntch the bay, in
which, it was expeded, the enemy was to land. Ofcar, un-
luckily, fell alleep, before the Scandinavians appeared ; and,
great as he was, fitys the Irilh bard, he had one bad property,
that no lefs could waken him, before his time, than cutting
off one of his fingers, or throwing a great ftone againft his
head ; and it was dangerous to come near him on thofe occa-
lions, till he had recovered himfelf, and was fully awake.

Ca-olt,

BookVIII. An epic POEM. 167
fpear, over Lubar, and flruck his echoing
jQiield. His ridgy hoft bend forward, at once,
with all their pointed fteel.

Nor Erin heard, with fear, the found : wide
they came rolling along. Dark Malthos, in the
wing of war, looks forward from fnaggy brows.
Next rofe that beam of light Hidalla; then the
fide-long-looking gloom of Moronnan. Blue-
Ihielded Clonar lifts the fpear j Cormar fhakeS
his bufliy locks on the wind. Slowly, from be-
hind a rock, rofe the bright form of Atha. Firfl
appeared his two pointed fpears, then the half of
his burniflied fhield : like the rifing of a nightly
meteor, over the vale of ghofts. But when he
Ihone all abroad : the hofts plunged, at once,
into (Irife. The gleaming waves of fteel are
poured on either fide.

As meet two troubled feas, with the rolling of
all their waves, when they feel the wings of con-

Ca-ok, who was employed by Offian to waken his fon, made
choice of throwing the ftone againft his head, as the lead dan-
gerous expedient. The flone, rebounding from the hero's
head, (hook, as it rolled along, the hill for three miles round.
Ofcar rofe in rage, fought bravely, and, fingly, vanquiihed
a wing of the enemy's army. Thus the bard goes on, till
Fingal put an end to the war, by the total rout of the Scandi-
navians. Puerile, and even defpicable, as thefe fidions are,
yet Keating and O' Flaherty have no better authority than the
poems which contain them, for all that they write concerning
Fion Mac-COmnal, and the pretended militia of Ireland.

M 4 tending

1 68 T E M O R A; Book Vlll.

tending winds, in the rock-fided frith of Lumon ;
along the echoing hills is the dim courfe of
ghofts : from the blaft fall the torn groves on the
deep, aniidft the foamy path of whales. So mixed
the hods ! Now Fingal ; liow Cathmor came
abroad. The dark tumbling of death is before
them : the gleam of broken fteel is rolled on
their fteps, as, loud, the high-bounding kings
hewed down the ridge of fliields.

Maronnon fell, by Fingal, laid large acrofs
a ftream. The waters gathered by his fide, and
leapt grey over his bolTy fhield. Clonar is pierced
by Cathmor : nor yet lay the chief on earth. An
oak fcized his hair in his fall. His helmet rolled
on the ground. By its thong, hung his broad
fliield ; over it Vv'andered his dreaming blood.
Tla-min * fhall weep, in the hall, and ftrike
her heaving breaft.

Nor

* Tla-mln, fni/Jlj foft. The loves of Clonar and Tlamin
vere rendered famous in the north, by a fragment of a lyric
poem. It is a dialogue between Clonar and Tlamin. She
begins with a foliloquy, which he overhears.

Tlamin.
*' Clonar, fon of Conglas of I-mor, young hunter of dun-
fided roes ! where art thou laid, amidft rufhes, beneath the
paffing v.ing of the breeze ? I behold thee, my love, in the
plain of thy own dark flreams ! The clung thorn is rolled by
the wind, and ruilles along his fliicld. Bright in his locks he
lies : the dioughts of his dreams fl;-, darkening, over his face.

Thou

Book VIII. An EPIC POEM. 169

Nor did OITian forget the fpear, in the wing
of his war. He ftrewed the field with dead.
Young Hidalla came. *' Soft voice of ftreanny
Clonra ! Why doft thou life the fteel ? O that
we met, in the ftrife of fong, in thy own rufliy
vale !" Malthos beheld him low, and darkened
as he rulhed along. On either fide of a dream,
we bend in the echoing flrife. Heaven comes
rolling down : around burft the voices of fqually
winds. Hills are clothed, at times, in fire.

Thou thinkeft of the battles of Offian, young fon of the
echoing iile 1

" Half hid, in the grove, I fit dowm. Fly back, ye mills
of the hill. Why fliould ye hide her love from the blue eye«
of Tlamin of harps i

Clonar.

" As the fpirit, feen in a dream, flies oif from our openin<r
eyes, we think, we behold his bright path between the clofing
hills ; fo fled the daughter of Ciun-gal, from the fight of
Clonar of fhields . Arife from the gathering of trees ;
blue-eyed Tlamin arife.

Tlamin.

*' I turn me away from his fteps. Why fliould he know of
my love ! My white breaft is heaving over fighs, as foam on
the dark courfe of ftreams. But he pafTes away, in his arms I
Son of CongJ-as, my foul is fad.

Clonar.
** It was the fhield of Fingal ! the voice of kings from Sel-
ma of harps ! My path is towards green Erin. Arife, fair
light, from thy fhades. Come to the field of my foul, there
is the fprcading of hofts. Arife, on Clonar's troubled foul,
young daughter of the blue-fhiclded Clungal."
Clungal was the chief of I-mor, one of the Hebrides.

Thunder

r/o T E M O R A: BookVIH.

Tliunder rolls in wreaths of miil. In darknefs
fhrunk the foe : Morven's warriors flood aghaft.
Still I bent over the ftreain, amidft my whiftling
locks.

Th£N rofe the voice of Fingal, and the found
of the flying foe. I faw the king, at times, in
lightning, darkly-ftriding in his might. I ftruck
my echoing fnield, and hung forward on the
ftcps of Alnecma : the foe is rolled before me,
like a wreath of fmoak.

The fun looked forth from his cloud. The
hundred ilreams of Moi-lena fhone. Slow rofe
the blue columns of mift, againfl: the glittering
hill. " Where are the mighty kings* ? Nor by
that ftream, nor wood are they ! I hear the
clang of arms ! Their ftrife is in the bofom of

* Fingal and Cathmor. The conduct here is pei'haps pro-
per. The numerous defcrlptions of fingle combats have al-
ready exhaufted the fubjedl. Nothing new, nor adequate to
our high idea of the kings, can be faid. A column of miji is
thrown over the whole, and the combat is left to the imagi-
nation of the reader. Poets have almoft univerfally failed in
their defcriptions of this fort. Not all the ftrcngth of Homer
could fuftain, with dignity, the minutia of a fingle combat.
The throwing of a fpear, and the braying of a fliicld, as fome
of our own poets moft elegantly exprcfs it, convey no mag-
nificent, though they are ftriking ideas. Our imagination
ftretches beyond, and confcquentiy, dcfpifes, the defcription.
It were, therefore, well, for fome poets, in my opinion, (tho'
it is, perhaps, fomewhat fmgular) to have, fomctinies, thrown
miJi over th?ir fmgle combats.

that

Book VIII. An EPIC POEM. 171

that mid. Such is the contending of fpirits in a
nightly cloud, when they ftrive for the wintry
wings of winds, and the rolling of the foam-
covered waves.

I RUSHED along. The grey mill: rofe. Tall,
gleaming, they flood at Lubar. Cathmor leaned
againft a rock. His half-fallen fhield received
the ftream, that leapt from the mofs above.
Towards him is the ftiide of Fingal : he faw the
hero's blood. His fword fell flowly to his fide.
He fpoke, midfl: his darkening joy.

« Yields the race of Borbar-duthul ? Or ftill
does he lift the fpear ? Not unheard is thy
name, at Atha, in the green dwelling of ftran-
gers. It has come, like the breeze of his defarr,
to the ear of Fingal. Come to my hill of fealh :
the mighty fail, at times. No fire am I to low-
laid foes : I rejoice not over the fall of the brave.
To clofe * the wound is mine : I have known

* Fingal is very much celebrated, in tradition, for his
knowledge in the virtues of herbs. The Irilh poems, con-
cerning him, often repreient him curing the wounds which
his chiefs received in bn't-ic. They fable concerning him,
that he was in pofTeffinn il" a cup, containing the elfence of
herbs, which mftantanooufly healed wounds. The knowledge
of curing the wounded, was, tiU of late, univerfal among the
Highlanders. We heai- of no other diforder, which i-equired
the Ikill of phyfic. The wholfomenefs of :he climate, and an
^aive life, fpcnt in hunting, excluded difeafes.

the

172 T E M O R A: BookVIIL

the herbs of the hills. I feized their fair heads,
on high, as they waved by their fecret ftreams.
Thou art dark and filent, king of Atha of llran-
gers!"

'« By Atha of the flream,'* he faid, " there rifes
a mofiy rock. On its head is the wandering of
boughs, within the courfe of winds. Dark, in its
face, is a cave, with its own loud rill. There
have I heard the tread of flrangers *, when they
pafTed to my hall of (hells. Joy rofe, like a
flame, on my foul : I bleft the ethoing rock.
Here be my dwelling, in darknefs j in my gralTy
vale. From this I (hall mount the breeze, that
purfues my thi file's beard j or look down,
on blue-winding Atha, from its v/andering
ir-ifr."

* Cathmor reflecl:s, with plcafiire, even in his laft mo-
iTunts, on the relief he had afforded to ftrangers. The very-
Tread of their feet was pleafant in his ear. His hofpitality
Avas not paffed unnoticed by the bards ; for, with them, it
became a proverb, when they defcribed the hofpitable dilpo-
filion of a hero, that he nvas like Cathmor cf Atha, the friend
"fjlrangers. It will feem ftrange, that, in all the Irilh poems,
rlicre is no mention made of Cathmor. This mud be attri-
buted to the revolutions and domeilic confufions which hap-
pened in that ifland, and utterly cut off all the real traditions
concerning fo ancient a period. All that we have related of
the ftate cf Ireland before the fifth century is of late inven-
tion, and the work cf ill-infcrm*!.! fenachicj and injudicious

Why

Book VIII. An EPIC POEM. 173

" Why rpeaks the king of the tomb ? OfTian !
the warrior has failed ! Joy meet thy foul, like
a ftream, Cathmor, friend of Grangers ! My
fon, I hear the call of years j they take my
fpear as they- pafs along. Why does not Fin-
gal, they feem to fay, reft within his hall ? Doll
thou always delight in blood ? In the tears of
the fad? No: ye dark-rolling years, Fingal
delights not in blood. Tears are wintry ftreams
that wafte away my foul. But, when I lie down
to reft, then comes the mighty voice of war.
It awakes me, in my hall, and calls forth all my
fteel. It ftiall call it forth no more ; Ofllan,
take thou thy father's fpear. Lift it, in battle,
when the proud arife.

" My fathers, OlTian, trace my fteps ; my
deeds are pleafant to their eyes. Wherever I
come forth to battle, on my field, are their
columns of mift. But mine arm refcued the
feeble i the haughty found my rage was fire.
Never over the fallen did mine eye rejoice. For
this *, my fathers ftjall meet me, at the gates

of

* The Celtic nations had fome idea of rewards, and per-
haps of puniihments, after death. Thofe who behaved, in
life, with bravery and virtue, were received, with joy, to the
airy halls of their fathers; but the dark in foul, to ufe the ex-
preffion of the poet, were fpurned away/;T-7? the habitaikn of
herees, to ivandcr C7t all the ^i.'ifi.is. Another opinion, which

prevailed

174 T E M O R A: Book VIII.

of their airy halls, tall, with robes of light,
with mildly-kindled eyes. But, to the proud
in arms, they are darkened moons in heaven,
which fend the fire of night red-wandering over
their face.

" Father of heroes, Trenmor, dweller of
eddying winds ! I give thy fpear to OfTian, let
thine eye rejoice. Thee have I fcen, at times,
bright from between thy clouds j fo appear to
my fon, when he is to lift the fpear : then Hiall
he remember thy mighty deeds, though thou arc
now but a blaft."

He gave the fpear to my hand, and raifed,
at once, a ftone on high, to fpeak to future
times, with its grey head of mofs. Beneath he
placed a fword * in earth, and one bright bofs
from his fliield. Dark in thought, a-while, he
bends : his words, at length, came forth,

prevailed in thofe times, tended not a little to make indivi-
duals emulous to excel one another in. martial atchieve-
ments. It was thought, that, in the /^all of clouds, every
one had a feat, raifed above others, in proportion as he ex-
celled them, in valour, when he lived.

* There are fome ftones ftill to he feen in the north, which
were erected as memorials of fome remarkable tranfadtions
between the ancient chiefs. There are generally found, be-
neath them, fome piece of arms, and a bit of half-burnt
■wood. The caufe of placing the laft there is not mentioned
in tradition.

" Wheit

Book VIII. An EPIC POEM; 175

*f When thou, O ftone, fliall moulder down,
and lofe thee, in the mofs of years, then fliall
the traveller come, and whiftling pafs away.
Thou know'ft not, feeble man, that fame once
flione on Moi-lena. Here Fingal refigned his
fpear, after the lad of his fields. Pafs away,
thou empty fliade ! in thy voice there is no
renown. Thou dwelleft by iorv.e peaceful
ftream ; yet a few years, and thou arc gone.
No one remembers thee, thou dweller of thick
mill ! But Fingal fliall be clothed v;ith famic, a
beam of light to other times j for he went forth,
in echoing fl:eel, to fave the weak in arms."

Brightening in his fame, the king ftrode
to Lubar's founding oak, where it bent, from
its rock, over the bright-tumbling fl:ream. Be-
neath it is a narrow plain, and the found of the
fount of the rock. Here the fl:andard * of Mor-
ven poured its wreaths on the wind, to mark the
way of Ferad-artho, from his fccret vale. Bright,
from his parted weft, the fun of heaven looked
abroad. The hero faw his people, 'and heard

* The eredting of his ftandard on the bank of Lubar, was
the llgnal which Fingal, in the beginning of the book, pro-
jnifed to give to the chiefs, who went to condudt Ferad-artho
to the army, fhould he himfelf prevail in battle. This fland-
ard here is called, \\\c fiin-beain. The rcafon of this appella-
tion, I gave in my notes on the poem iniitlcd Fingal.

e their

176 T E M O R A: BookVIIL

their fliouts of joy. In broken ridges round,
they glittered to the beam. The king rejoiced,
as a hunter in his own green vale, when, after the
florm is rolled away, he fees the gleaming fides
of the rocks. The green thorn fhakes its head
in their face; from their top look forward the
roes.

Grey *, at his mofly cave, is bent the aged
form of Cionmal. The eyes of the bard had
failed. He leaned forward, on his ftaff. Bright,
in her locks, before him, Sul-malla liftened to
the tale ; the tale of the kings of Atha, in the
days of old. The noife of battle had ceafed in
his ear : he ftopt, and raifed the fecret figh.
The fpirits of the dead, they faid, often light-
ened along his foul. He faw the king of Atha
low, beneath his bending tree.

" Why art thou dark," faid the maid ?
" The ftrife of arms is pad. Soon f fhall he
come to thy cave, over thy winding ftreams.
The fun looks from the rocks of the weft. The

* The fcene is changed to the valley of Lona, whither Sul-
malla had been fent, by Cathmor, before the battle. Cion-
mal, an aged bard, or rather druid, as he fcems here to be •
endued with a prefcience of events, had long dwelt there in
a cave. This fcene is calculated to throw a melancholy gloom
over the mind.

f Cathmor had promifcd, in the feventh book, to come to
the cave of Cionmal, after the battle was over.

mifts

BookVIII. An epic poem. 177

mi (Is of the lake arife. Grey, they fpread on
that hill, the rudiy dwelling 6f roes. From the
mift fhall my king appear ! Behold, he comes
in his arms. Come to the cave of Clonmal, O
my beft beloved !"

It was the fpirit of Cathmor, (lalking, large,
a gleaming form. He funk by the hollow
ftream, that roared between the hills. " It was
but the hunter," flie faid, *' who fearches for
the bed of the roe. His (leps are not forth to
warj his fpoufe expecls him with night. He
ihall, whiftling, return with the fpoils of the
dark brown hinds." Her eyes were turned to the
hill; again the {lately form came down. She
rofe in the midft of joy. He retired again in
mift. Gradual vanifli his limbs of fmoak, and
mix with the mountain- v/ind. Then fhe knew
that he fell! ** King of Erin art thou low!"
Let Offian forget her grief 3 it waftes the foul
of age*.

Evening

* Tradition relates, that OfTian, the next dr:y after the
decilive battle between Fingal and Cathmor, went to find out
Sul-malla, in the valley of Lena. His addrefs to her fol-
lows :

" Awake, thou daughter of Conmor, from the fern-fkirted
cavern of Lona. Awake, thou fun-beam in defai-ts ; warriors
one day muft fail. They move forth, like terrible lights ;
but, often, their cloud is near. Go to the valley of ftreams,
to the wandering of herds, on Lumon ; there dwell?-, in his

Vol. II. N laz/

178 T E M O R A: BookVIII.

Evening came down on Moi-lena. Grey
rolled the dreams of the land. Loud came fortli
the voice of Fingal: the beam of oaks arofe.
The people gathered round with gladnefs; with
gladnefs blended with fliades. They fidelong
looked to the king, and beheld his unfiniflied
joy. Pleafant, from the way of the defart, the
voice of mufic came. It feemed, at firft, the
noife of a ilream, far-diftant on its rocks. Slow
it rolled along the hill, like the ruffled wing of a
breeze, wlien it takes the tufted beard of the
rocks, in the ftill feafon of night. It was the
voice of Condan, mixed with Carril's trembling
harp. They came, with blue-eyed Ferad-artho,
to Mora of the dreams.

lazy mifl, the man of m?.nf days. But he is unknown, Sul-
malla, like the thiftle of the rocks ef roes ; it Ihakes its grey
beard, in the wind, and falls, unfeen of our eyes. Not fuch
ure the kings of men, their departure is a meteor of fire,
which pours its red courfe, from the defart, over the bofom
of night.

" He is mixed with the warriors of old, thofe fires that
have hid their heads. At times ftiall they come forth in ibng.
Not forgot has the warrior failed. He has not feen, Sul-
malla, the fall of a beam of his own : no fair-haired fon, in
his blood, young troubler of the field. I am lonely, young
branch of Lumon, I may hear the voice of the feeble, when
my ftrength fhall have failed in years, for young Ofcar has
ceafed, on his field." — * * * *

Sulmalla returned to her own country. She makes a
confidcrablc figure in another poem ; her behaviour in that
piece accounts for that partial regard with which the poet
ought to fpeak of her throughout Temora.

5 Sudden

Book VIII. An E P I C POEM. 179

Sudden burfts the fong from our bards, on
Lena : the hoft ftruck their Ihields midft the
found. Gladnefs rofe brightening on the king,
like the beam of a cloudy day, when ic rifes,
on the green hill, before the roar of winds. He
ftruck the bofly fhield of kings ; at once they
ceafe around. The people lean forward, from
their fpears, towards the voice of their land*.

" Sons of Morven, fpread the feaft; fend the
night away in fong. Ye have fhone around me,
and the dark llorm is pad. My people are the
windy rocks, from which I fpread my eagle-

* Before I finlfh my notes, it may not be altogether impro-
per to obviate an objeftion, which may be made to the cre-
dibility of the ftory of Temora. It may be alked, whether
it is probable, that Fingal could perform fuch actions as are
afcribed to him in this book, at an age when his grandfon,
Ofcar, had acquired fo much reputation in arms. To this it
may be anfwered, that Fingal was but very young [book 4th]
when he took to wife Ros-crana, who foon after became the
mother of Offian. OiTian was alfo extremely young -Vvhen
he married Ever-allin, the mother of Ofcar. Tradition re-
lates, that Fingal was but eighteen years old at the birth of
his fon Offian ; and that Offian was much about the fame
age, when Ofcar, his fon, was born. Ofcar, perhaps, might
be about twenty, when he was killed, in the battle of Gabhra,
[book ift] fo the age of Fingal, when the decifive battle was
fought between him and Cathmor, was juft fifty-fix years.
In thofe times of aiftivity and health, the natural ftrength
and vigour of a man was little abated, at fuch an age ; fo
that there is nothing improbable in the acftions of Fingal, as
related in this book.

N 2 wings,

i8o T E M O R A: Book VIII.

wings, when I rufh forth to renown, and feize
it on its field. OfTian, thou haft the fpear of
Fingal : it is not the (lafFof a boy with which he
ftrews the thiftle round, young wanderer of the
field. No : it is the lance of the mighty, with
which they ftretchcd forth their hands to death.
Look CO thy fathers, my fon ; they are awful
beams. With morning lead Ferad-artho forth
to the echoing halls of Tcmiora. Remind him
of the kings of Erin ; the fcately forms of old.
Let not the fallen be forgot, they were mighty
in the field. Let Carril pour his fong, that the
kings may rejoice in their mift. To-morrow I
fpread my fails to Selma's fliaded walls ; where
dreamy Duthula winds through the feats of
roes."

CONLATH and CUTHONA

POEM.

N3

ARGUMENT.

C'onlath was the youngeft of Morni's fons, and brother to the
celebrated Gaul. He was in love with Ciithona the daugh-
ter of Rumar, when Tofcar the fon of Kinfena, accompa-
nied by Fcrcuth his friend, arrived, from Ireland, at
Mora, where Conlath dwelt. He v.-as hofpitably received,
and, according to the cuftom of the times, feartcd three
days with Conlath. On the fourth he fet fail, and coaft-
ing the if.and of 'wa'ves, one of the Hebrides, he faw
Cathona hunting, itll in love with her, and carried her
away, by force, in his fhip. He was forced, by ftrefs of
weather, into I-thona, a defart ifle. In the mean time
Conlath, hearing of the rape, failed after him, and found
him on the point of failing for the coaft of Ireland. They
fought ; and they and their followers fell by mutual
v.'ounds. Cuthona did not long furvive : for Ihe died of
j;rief the third day after. Fingal, hearing of their unfor-
tunate death, fent Stormal the fon of Moran to hnrj them,
but forgot to fend a bard to fmg the funeral fong over their
tombs. The ghoft of Conlath comes, long after, to Offian,
TO intreat him to tranfmit, to pofterity, his and Cuthona's
fame. For it was the opinion of the times, that the fouls
of the deceafed were not happy, till their elegies were
compcfed by a bard.

[ '83 ]

CONLATH and CUTHONA:

A

POEM.

DID not OiTian hear a voice? or is it the
found of days that are no more ? Often
does the memory of former times come, like
the evening fun, on my foul. The noife of the
chace is renewed. In thought, I life the fpear.
But Offian did hear a voice ! Who art thou, fon
of night ? The children of the feeble are afleep.
The midnight wind is in my hall. Perhaps it is
the fhield of Fingal that echoes to the blafl.
It hangs in Offian's hall. He feels it fometimes
with his hands. Yes ! I hear thee, my friend !
Long has thy voice been abfent from mine ear !
What brings thee, on thy cloud, to OfTian, fon
of generous Morni ? Are the friends of the aged
near thee ? Where is Ofcar, fon of fame ? He
was often near thee, O Conlath, v/hen the found
of battle arofe>

N 4 Gpiost

i84 CONLATH and CUTHONA?

Ghost of Coni.ath.
Sleeps the fweet voice of Cona, in the midft
of his ruftling hall? Sleeps Offian in his hall,
and his friends without their fame ? The fea
rolls round dark I-thona*. Our tombs are not
{ccn in our ifle. How long Ihall our fame be
unheard, fon of refounding Selma ?

OSSIANT.

O THAT mine eyes could behold thee ! Thou
fitted, dirn, on thy cloud ! Art thou like the
mift of Lano ? An half-extinguilhed meteor of
fire? Of what are the fkirts of thy robe? Of what
is thine airy bow? He is gone on his blaft like the
lliade of a wandering cloud. Come from thy wall,
O harp! Let me hear thy found. L.et the light
of memory rife on Ichona. Let me behold again
my friends ! And OlTian does behold his friends,
on the dark-blue ifle. The cave of Thona ap-
pears, with its moify rocks and bending trees. A
flream roars at its mouth. Tofcar bends over
its courfe. Fcrcuih is fad by his fide. Cuthona f
fits at a diilance, and weeps. Does the wind of

* l-\h.onn, i/l'i'if' r/ iv.Tves, one o; the uniuhabilcJ wofiern

■f Cv' thona the daughter of Rurnar, whom Tofcai- had car-
J-iwu av ay by force.

the

A P O E M. 185

the waves deceive me ? Or do I hear them
fpeak ?

TOSCAR.

The night was ftormy. From their hills the
groaning oaks came down. The Tea darkly-
tumbled beneath the blaft. The roaring waves
climbed againft our rocks. The lightning came
often and fhewed the blafted fern. Fercuch! I
faw the ghoft who embroiled the night*. Silenc
he flood, on that bank. His robe of mift flew
on the wind. I could behold his tears. An ased
man he feemed, and full of thought!

Fercuth.
It was thy father, O Tofcar. He forefees
fome death among his race. Such was his
appearance on Cromla, before the great Ma-
ronnan f fell. Erin of hills of grafs! how
pleafant are thy vales ? Silence is near thy blue
Ilreams, The fun is on thy fields. Soft is the

* It was long thought, in the north of Scotland, that
ftorms were railed by the ghofts of the deceafcd. This notion
is ftill entertained by the vulgar ; for they think that whirl-
winds, and fudden fqualls of wind are occafioned by fpirits,
who tranfport themfelves, in that manner, from one place
to another.

f Ma-ronnan was the brother of Tofcar.

found

iS6 CONLATH and CUTHONA:

found of the harp in Selama*. Lovely the cry
of the hunter on Cromla. But we are in dark
I-thona, furrounded by the ftorm. The billows
lift their white heads above our rocks. We
tremble amidft the night.

TOSCAR.

Whither is the foul of battle fled, Fercuth
with locks of age ? I have feen thee undaunted in
danger : thine eyes burning with joy in the
fight. Whither is the foul of battle fled ? Our
fathers never feared. Go: view the fettling
fea : the fl:ormy wind is laid. The billows fl:ill
tremble on the deep. They feem to fear the
blaft. Go view the fettling fea. Morning is
grey on our rocks. The fun will look foon from
his eafl:; in all his pride of light! I lifted up
my fails, with joy, before the halls of generous
Conlath. My courfe was by a defart ifle:
where Cuthona purfued the deer. I faw her,
like that beam of the fun that iflfues from the
cloud. Her hair was on her heaving breaft.
She, bending forward, drew the bow. Her
white arm feemed, behind her, like the fnow of
Cromla. Come to my foul, I faid, huntrefs

* Selamath, becuilful to hehdd, the name of Tofcar's re-
jidcnce, on the eoaft of Ulfter, uear the moxmtain Cromla.

of

A POEM. ifty

of the defart ifle! But fne waftes her time in
tears. She thinks of the generous Conlath. Where
can 1 find thy peace, Cuthona, lovely maid I

CuTHONA*.

A DISTANT fteep bends over the fea, with aged
trees and mofiy rocks. The billow rolls at its
fcec. On its fide is the dwelling of roes. The
people call it Mora. There the towers of my
love arife. There Conlath looks over the fea
for his only love. The daughters of the chace
returned. He beheld their downcaft eyes.
" Where is the daughter of Rumar?" But they
anfwered not. My peace dwells on Mora, fon
of the diftant land 1

TOSCAR.

Cuthona Ihall return to her peace: to the
towers of generous Conlath. He is the friend
of Tofcar 1 I have feafl:ed in his halls ! Rife, ye
gentle breezes of Erin. Stretch my fails to-
ward Mora's fiiores. Cuthona fhall reft jon
Mora: but the days of Tofcar mult be fad. I
fhall fit in my cave in the field of the fun. The

* Cu-thona, the moio-tiful Jound of the taaves ; a poetical
name given her on acount of her mourning to the found of
the waves ; her name in tradition is Gorm-huil, the blue-eyed
maid,

blaft

i88 CONLATH andCUTHONA:

blaft will ruftle in my trees. I (hall think it is
Cuthona's voice. But Ihe is diftant far, in the
halls of the mighty Conlath !

CUTHONA.

Ha ! what cloud is that ? It carries the ghods
of my fathers. I fee the fkirts of their robes,
like grey and watry mid. When fhall I fall, O
Rumar ? Sad Cuthona forefees her death. Will
not Conlath behold me, before I enter the nar-
row houfe * ?

OSSIAN.

He fhall behold thee, O maid. He comes
along the heaving fea. The death of Tofcar is
dark on his fpear. A wound is in his fide ! He
is pale at the cave of Thona. He fnews his
ghaftly wound. Where art thou v/ith thy ti^ars,
Cuthona ? The chief of Mora dies. The vifion
grows dim on my mind. I behold the chiefs no
more ! But, O ye bards of future times, remem-
ber the fall of Conjath with tears. He fell before
his day. Sadnefs darkened in his hall. His
mother looked to his Ihield on the wall, and it
was bloody f. She knew that her hero fell.

* The grave.

•j- It was the opinion of the times, that the arms left by the
heroes at home, became bloody the very inftant their owners
were killed, though at ever fo great a diftance.

2 Her

A P O E M. 1S9

Her forrow was heard on Mora. Art thou pale
on thy rock, Cuthona, befide the fallen chiefs?
Night comes, and day returns, but none appears
to raife their tonnb. Thou frightenelt the
fcreaming fowls away. Thy tears for ever flow.
Thou art pale as a watry cloud, that rifes fronrt
a lake !

The fons of green Selma came. They found
Cuthona cold. They raifed a tomb over the
heroes. She refts at the fide of Conlath ! Come
not to my dreams, O Conlath 1 Thou hafi: re-
ceived thy fame. Be thy voice far difran: from
my hall ; t.hat deep may defcend at night. O
that I could forget my friends : till my foot-
fteps fhould ceafe to be feen I till I come among
them with joy ! and lay my nged limbs in the
narrow houfe !

BERRATHON:

POEM.

ARGUMENT.

Fingal in his voyage to Lochlin, whither he had beerf
invited by Starno the father of Agandecca, touched at
Berrathon, an ifland of Scandinavia, where he was kindly*
entertained by Larthmor the petty king of the place, who
was avaffalof the fupreme kings of Lochlin. The hofpi-
tality of Larthmor gained him Fingal's friendflaip, which
that hero manifeiled, after the imprifcnment of Larthmor
by his own fon, by fending Offian and Tofcar, the father
of Malvina, fo often mentioned, to refcue Larthmor, and
to pimilh the unnatural behaviour of Uthal. Uthal was
handfome, and, by the ladies, much admired. Nina-
thoma, the beautiful daughter of Torthoma, a neighbour-
ing prince, fell in love and fled with him. He proved un-
conftant ! for another lady, whofe nan:e is not mentioned,
gaining his afFeftions, he confined Nina-thoma to a defart
ifland near the coafl; of Berrathon. She was relieved by
Offian, who, in company witli Tofcar, landing on Berra-
thon, defeated tlie forces of Uthal, and killed him in a
fingle combat. Nina-thoma, whofe love not all the bad
behaviour of Uthal could erafc, hearing of his death, died
of grief. In the mean cime Larthmor is reflored, and
Offian and Tofcar return in triumph to Fingal.

The poem opens with an elegy on the death of Malvina
the daughter of Tofcar, and clofes with prefages of Offian's
death.

[ m ]
BERRATHON

A

P O E M.

BEND thy blue courfe, O ftream ! ro'jii
the narrow plain of * Lutha. Let the green
woods hang over it, from their hiJIs : the fun
look on it at noon. The thiftle is there on its
rocki and fhakes its beard to the wind. The
flower hangs its heavy head, waving, at times,
to the gale. " Why doft thou awake me, O
gale !" it fcems to fay, " I am covered with the
drops of heaven ? The time of my fading is
near, the blalt that (hall fcatter my leaves. To-
morrow (liall the traveller come ; he that faw me
in my beauty iLall come. His eyes will fearch
the field, buc they will not find me." So fhall
they fearch in vain, for the voice of Cona, after
it has failed in. the field. The hunter fhall come
forth in the morning, and the voice of my harp

* Lutha, /wi/t Jlream.

Vol. IL O Ihall

194 BERRATHON:

fhall not be heard. " Where is the Ton of car-
borne Fingal ?" The tear will be on his cheek I
Then come thou, O Malvina, with all thy
mufic, come ! Lay Oflian in the plain of Lutha :
let his tomb rife in the lovely field.

Malvina I where art thou, with thy fongs,
with the foft found of thy fteps ? Son * of Alpin
art thou near ? where is the daughter of Tofcar ?
" I palTcd, O fon of Fingal, by Tor-lutha's
mofly walls. The fmoke of the hall was ceafed.
Silence was among the trees of the hill. The
voice of the chace was over. I favv the daugh-
ters of the bow. I afKed about Malvina, but
they anfwered not. They turned their faces
away : thin darknefs covered their beauty. They
were like ftars, on a rainy hill, by night, each
looking faintly through her mid."

Pleasant f be thy reft, O lovely beam I
foon haft thou fet on our hills ! The fteps of thy
departure were ftately, like the moon on the
blue, trembling wave. But thou haft left us in
darknefs, firft of the maids of Lutha I We fit,
at the rock, and there is no voice j no light but

* His father was one of Fingal's principal bards» and
he had a poetical genius.

t Ofiian fpcaks. He calis Malvina a beam of light, and
continues the metaphor thrcughcut the paragraph.

the

A POEM. 195

the meteor of fire ! Soon haft thou fetj O Mal-
vina, daughter of generous Tofcar ! But thou
rifeft like the beam of the eaft, among the fpi-
rits of thy friends, where they fit, in their ftormy
halls, the chambers of the thunder ! A cloud ho-
vers over Cona. Its blue curling fides are high.
The winds are beneath it, with their wings.
Within it is the dwelling * of Fingal. There
the hero fits in darknefs. His airy fpear is in
his hand. His fliield, half covered with clouds,
is like the darkened moon ; when one half ftili
remains in the wave, and the other looks fickly
on the field !

His friends fit around the king, on mill !
They hear the fongs of Ullin : he ftrikes the
half-viewlefs harp. He raifes the feeble voice.
The leflTer heroes, with a thoufand meteors, light
the airy hall. Malvina rifes, in the midft ; a
blu(h is on her cheek. She beholds the un-
known faces of her fathers. She turns afide her
humid eyes. " Art thou come fo foon ?" faid
Fingal, " daughter of generous Tofcar. Sad-

* The defcription of this ideal pahice of Fingal is agreeable
to the notions of thofe times, concerning the ftate of the de-
ceafed, who were fuppofed to purfue, after death, the plea-
fures and employments of their former life. The fituatioa
of the Celtic heroes, in their feparate ftate, if not entirely
happy, is more agreeable, than the notions of the antient
Greeks concerning their departed heroes.

O 2 nefs

1^6 B E R R A T H O N :

nefs dwells in the halls of Lutha. My aged
fon * is fad ! I hear the breeze of Cona, that was
wont to lift thy heavy locks. It comes to the
hall, but thou art not there. Its voice is mourn-
ful among the arms of tiiy fathers ! Go, with thy
ruftling wing, O breeze ! figh on Malvina's
tomb. It rifes yonder beneath the rock, at the
blue ftream of Lutha. The maids f are departed
to their place. Thou alone, O breeze, mourneft
there 1"

But who comes from the duflcy weft, fup-
ported on a cloud ? A fmile is on his grey,
watery face. His locks of mifb fly on wind. He
bends forward on his airy fpear. It is thy fa-
ther, Malvina ! " Vv'hy fiiineft thou, fo loon,
on our clouds," he fays, *• O lovely light of
Lutha ! But thou wert fad, my daughter. Thy
friends had palTed away. The Ions of little
men J were in the hall. None remained of the
heroes, but OlTian king of fpears 1"

■* Ofiian ; who JuiJ a great friendfliip for Malvina, both
on account of her love for his fon Ofcar, and her attention
to himfeif.

t That is, the young virgins, who fung the funeral elegy-
over her tomb.

t Tradition is entirely filent concerning what paffed in the
north, immediately after the death of Fiugal and all his
heroes ; by which it would feem that the aiftions of their
fucceflbrs were not to be compared to thofe of the renowned
Fingalians.

2 And

A P O E M. 197

And doft ihou remember Oifian, car-borne
Tofcar *, Ton of Conloch ? The battles of our
youth were many. Our fv.ords went together to
the fielcj. They faw us coming like two falling
rocks. The fons of the firanger fled. " There
come the warriors of Cona I" they faid. " Their
fteps are in the paths of the flying 1" Draw
near, fon of Alpin, to the fong of the aged.
The deeds of other times are in my foul. My
memory beams on the days that are pad. On
the days of mighty Tofcar, when our path was
in the deep. Draw near, fon of Alpin, to the
lad found of the voice of Cona !

The king of Morven commanded. I raifed
my fails to the wind. Tofcar chief of Lutha
flood at my flde, I rofe on the dark-blue wave.
Our courfe was to fea-furrounded Berrathon -[-,
the ifle of many fl:orms. There dwelt, with hi*
locks of age, the (lately flrength of Larthmor
Larthmor, who fpread the feail of fliells to Fin-
gal, when he went to Starno's halls, in the days
of Agandecca, But when the chief was old, the
pride of his fon arofe ; the pride of fair-haired
Uthal, the love of a thoufand maids. He bound

* Tofciir was the fon of that Conloch, who was alfo father
to the lady, whofe unfortunate death is related in the laH
f pifode of the fecond book of Fingal.

-(■ Barrathon, a promontory in the fnidjl of ■xua^v/.

O ? the

19S B E R R AT H O N:

the aged Larthmor, and dwelt in his founding
halls !

Long pined the king in his cave, befide his
rolling lea. Day did not come to his dwelling;
nor the burning oak by night. But the wind of
ocean was there, and the parting beam of the
moon. The red (lar looked on the king, when
it trembled on the weftern wave, Snitho came
to Selma's hall : Snitho the friend of Larthmor's
youth. He told of the king of Berrathon : the
wrath of Fingal arofe. Thrice he alTumed the
fpear, refolved to ftretch his hand to Uthal. But
the memory * of his deeds rofe before the king.
He fent his fon and Tofcar. Our joy was great
on the rolling fea. We often half-unflieathed
our fwords. For never before had v.e fought
alone, in battles of the fpear.

Night came down on the ocean. The winds
departed on their wings. Cold and pale is the
i>ii jon. The red ftars lift their heads on high. Our
courfe is flow along the coaft of Berrathon. The
white waves tumble on the rocks. " What
voice is that," faid Tofcar, " which comes be-
tween the founds of the waves ? It is foft but

■* The meaning is, that Fingal remembered his own great
aftions, and confequently would not fully them by engaging
in a petty war againil Uthal, who was fo fai- his inferior la
yalour and power.

mournful^j

A P O E M. 199

mournful, like the voice of departed bards. But
I behold a maid*. She fits on the rock alone.
Her head bends on her arm of fnow. Her dark
hair is in the wind. Hear, fon of Fingal, her
fong, it is fmooth as the gliding dream." We
came to the lilent bay, and heard the maid of
night.

" How long will ye roll around me, blue-
tumbling waters of ocean ? My dwelling was
not always in caves, nor beneath the whiftling
tree. The feaft was fpread in Torthoma's hall.
My father delighted in my voice. The youths
beheld me in the fteps of my lovelinefs. They
blefied the dark-haired Nina-thoma. It was
then thou didft come, O Uthal ! like the fun of
heaven ! The fouls of the virgins are thine, fon
of generous Larthmor ! But why dofl thou leave
me alone, in the midfl: of roaring waters ? Was
my foul dark v/ith thy death ? Did my white
hand lift the fword ? Why then haft thou left
me alone, king of high Finthormo f !'*

The tear ftarted from my eye, when I heard
the voice of the maid. I flood before her in my
arms. I fpoke the words of peace ! " Lovely

* Nina-thoma, the daughter of ToLthoma, who had bcea
confined to a defart ifland hy ht;r lover Uthal.

t Fiathormo, the palace of Uthal. The names in this
«pifode are not of a Cckic original.

O 4 dweller

200 B E R R AT H O N:

dweller of the cave ! what figh is in thy breaft ?
Shall Ofllan life his fword in thy prefence, the
deftru6tion of thy foes ? Daughter of Torthoma,
rife. I have heard the words of thy grief. The
race of IVIorven are around thee, who never in-
jured tlt€ weak. Come to our dark-bofoined
fhip ! th. u brighter than that fetting moon I
Our courfe is to the rocky Berrathon, to the
echoing walls of Finthormo." She came in her
beauty j ihe came with all her lovely fteps. Si-
lent joy brightened in her face; as when the fha-
dows fly from the field of fpring ; the blue-ftream
is rolling in brightnefs, and the green bufli bends
over its courfe !

Th£ morning rofe with its beams. We came
to Rothma's bay. A boar rullied from the wood :
iny fpear pierced his fide, and he fell. I rejoiced
over the blood *. I forefaw my growing fame.
But nov/ the found of Uthal's train came, from
the high Finthormo. They fpread over the
heath to the chace of the boar. Himfelf comes
flowly on, in the pride of his ftrength. He lifts
two pointed fpears. On his fide is the hero'^s

* OlTian might have thought that his killing a boar on his
firH: landing in Berrathon, was a good omen of his future
fuccefs in that ifland. The prefcnt Highlanders look, with a
degree of fuperftition, upon the fuccefs of their firft adion,
af'-cr they have engaged in any defperate urtdertaking.

fwordo

A P O E M. 20?

fword. Three youths carry his polifhed bows.
The bounding of five dogs is before him. His
heroes move on, at a diftance, admiring the
fteps of the king. Stately Vv^as the Ton of Larth-
mor ! but his foul was dark! Dark as the
troubled face of the moon, when it foretels the
ftorms !

We rofe on the heath before the king. He
flopt in the midd of his courfe. His heroes ga-
thered around, A grey-haired bard advanced.
" Whence are the fons of the ftrangers !" began
the bard of fong. ^^ The children of the un-
happy come to Berrathon j to the fword of car-
borne Uthal. He fpreads no feaft in his hall.
The blood of ftrangers is on his ftreams. If
from Selma's walls ye come, from the molTy walls
of Fingal, chufe three youths to go to your king
to tell of the fall of his people. Perhaps the hero
may come and pour his blood on Uthal's fword.
So fhall the fame of Finthormo arife, like th^
growing tree of the vale !"

" Never will it rife, O bard," I faid in the
pride of my wrath. " He would fhrink from
the prefence of Fingal, whofe eyes are the
flames of death. The fon of Comhal comes,
and kings vanifli before him. They are rolled
together, like mift, by the breath of his rage.
Shall three tell to Fingal, that his people fell?

Yes!

202 BERRATHON:

Yes ! they may tell it, bard ! but his people Hull
fall wich fame !"

I STOOD in the darknefs of my ftrength.
Tofcar drew his fword at my fide. The foe
came on liive a flream. The mingled found of
death arofe. Man took man, fhield met (hield ;
fleel mixed its beams with fleel. Darts hifs thro'
air. Spears ring on mails. Swords on broken
bucklers bound. As the noife of an aged grove
beneath the roaring wind, when a thoufand
ghofts break the trees by night, fuch was the
din of arms ! But Uthal fell beneath my fword,
The fons of Berrathon fled. It was then I faw
him in his beauty, and the tear hung in my
eye ! " Thou art fallen *, young tree," I faid,
<« with all thy beauty round thee. Thou art
fallen on thy plains, and the field is bare. The
winds come from the defart ! there is no founcj
in thy leaves ! Lovely art thou in death, fon of
car-borne Larihrnor,"

NiNA-THOMA fat on the fhore. She heard
the found of battle. She turned her red eyes oa

* To mourn over the fall of their enemies, was a pradice
univerfal among the Celtic heroes. This is more agreeable
to humanity, than the fliameful infiilting of the dead, fo
common in Homer, and after him, fervilely copied by ail
his imitators, the humane Virgil not excepted, who have
been more fuccefsful in borrowing the imperfeftions of that
great poet, than in their imitations of his beauties.

7 Lethmalj^

A P O E M. 2Qi

Lethmal, the grey-haired bard of Selma. He
alone had remained on the coaft, with the
daughter of Torthoma. " Son of the times of
old!" flie faid, ^* I hear the noife of death.
Thy friends have met with Uthal and the chief is
low 1 O that I had remained on the rock, in-
clofed with the tumbling waves ! Then would
my foul be fad, but his death would not reach
my ear. Art thou fallen on thy heath, O fon of
high Finthormo ! Thou didfl: leave me on a
rock, but my foul was full of thee. Son of
high Finthormo ! art thou fallen on thy heath r"

She rofe pale in her tears. She faw the
bloody fhield of Uthal. She faw it in Offian's
hand. Her fteps were diftradted on the heath.
She Fiew. She found him. She fell. Her foul
came forth in a figh. Her hair is fpread on
his face. My burfting tears defcend. A tomb
arofe on the unhappy. My fong of woe was
heard. " Reft, haplefs children of youth ! Reft
at the noife of that moffy ftream 1 The virgins
will fee your tomb, at the chace, and turn away
their weeping eyes. Your fame will be in fonf.
The voice of the harp will be heard in your
praife. The daughters of Selma fliall hear it :
your renown ftiall be in other lands. Reft, chil-
dren of youth, at the noife of the mofly ftream !"

Two

204 B E R R A T H O N :

Two days we remained on the coaft. The
heroes of Berrathon convened. We brought
Larthmo'- to his hall^, T'.c feait of fliells is
fpread. The joy of the aged was great. He
looked to the arms of his fathers. The arms
which he left in his hall, when the pride of
Uthal rofe. We were renowned before Larth-
mor. He blefled the chiefs of Morven. He
knew not that his fon was low, the (lately
Itrength of Uthal ! They kad told, that he had
retired to the woods, with the tears of grief.
They had told it, but he was filent in the tomb
of Rothma's heath.

On the fourth day we raifed our fiiJ?, to the
roar of the northern wind. Larthmor came to
the coaft. His bards exalted the fong. The joy
of the king was great, he looked to Rothma's
gloomy heath. He faw the tomb of his fon.
The memory of Uthal rofe. " Who of my he-
roes," he faid, ^' lies there ? he feems to have
been of the kings of men. Was he renowned
in my halls, before the pride of Uthal rofe?"
Ye are hlent, fons of Berrathon ! is the king of
heroes low ? INly heart melts for thee, O Uthal !
though thy hand was againft thy father. O that
I had remained in the cave ! that my fon had
dwelt in Finthormo 1 I might have heard the

tread

A t» O E M. 205

tread of his feet, when he went to the chace of
the boar. I might have heard his voice on the
blaft of my cave. Then would my foul be glad :
but now darknefs dwells in my halls."

Such were my deeds, fon of Alpin, when the
arm of my youth was ftrong. Such the * ac-
tions of Tofcar, the car- borne fon of Conloch.
But Tofcar is on his flying cloud. I am alone
at Lutha. My voice is like the laft found of the
wind, when it forfakes the woods. But Oflian fhall
not be long alone. He fees the mift that fhall
receive his ghoft. He beholds the mift that fhall
form his robe, when he appears on his hills. The
fons of feeble men fhall behold me, and admire
the ftature of the chiefs of old. They fliall creep
to their caves. They fhall look to the flcy with
fear : for my fteps fhall be in the clouds. Dark-
nefs fhall roll on my fide.

Lead, fon of Alpin, lead the aged to his
woods. The winds begin to rife. The dark
wave of the lake refounds. Bends there not a
tree from Mora with its branches bare ? It
bends, fon of Alpin, in the ruflling blaft. My
harp hangs on a blafted branch. The found of
its firings is mournful. Does the wind touch
thee, O harp, or is it fome paffing ghoft ! It
is the hand of Malvina ! Bring me the harp,

* Offiaa fueaka.

fon

266 BERRATHON:

fon of Alpin. Another fong fhall rife. My
foul fhall depart In the found. My fathers fhall
hear it in their airy hall. Their dim faces
fhall hang, with joy, from their clouds 5 and
their hands receive their fon. The aged oak
bends over the ftream. It fighs with all its mofs.
The withered fern whiftles near, and mixes, as it
waves, with OfTian's hair.

" Strike the harp, and raife the fong : be near,
with all your wings, ye winds. Bear the mournful
found away to Fingal's airy hall. Bear it to Fin-
gal's hall, that he may hear the voice of his fon.
The voice of him that praifed the mighty !"

" The blaft of north opens thy gates, O king !
1 behold thee fitting on mift, dimly gleaming in
all thine arms. Thy form now is not the terror
of the valiant. It is like a watery cloud ; when
we fee the fears behind it, with their weeping
eyes. Thy fhield is the aged moon : thy fword
a vapour half-kindled with fire. Dim and
feeble is the chief, who travelled in brightnefs
before ! But thy fteps * are on the winds of the

* This defcription of the power of Fingal over the winds
and florms, and the image of his taking the fun, and
hiding him in the clouds, do not correfpond with the pre-
ceding paragraph, where he is reprefented as a feeble ghoft,
and no more the terror of the valiamt ; but it agrees
with the notion of the times concerning the fouls of the de-
ceafed, who, it was fuppofed, had the command of the winds
and ftorms, but took no concern in the affairs of men.

defart.

A P O E M. 207

defart. The ftorms are darkening in thy hand.
Thou takeft the fun in thy wrath, and hideft
him in thy clouds. The Tons of little men a;c
afraid. A thoufand fliowers defcend. But when
thou comeft forth in thy mildnefs j the gale of
the morning is near thy courfe. The fun laughs
in his blue fields. The grey ftream winds in its
vale. The bufhes fhake their green heads in
the wind. The roes bound towards the defart."

•* There is a murmur in the heath ! the ftormy
winds abate ! I hear the voice of Fingal. Long
has it been abfent from mine ear ! " Come,
Ofiian, come away," he fays, Fingal has re-
ceived his fame. We pafled away, like flames
that had fhone for a feafon. Our departure was
in renown. Though the plains of our battles
are dark and filenti our fame is in the four grey
ftones. The voice of Ofllan has been heard.
The harp has been ftrung in Selma. " Come,
Onian, come away," he fays, " come, fly v/ith
thy fathers on clouds." I come, I come, thou
king of men ! The life of Oflian fails. I begin
to vanifh on Cona. My fleps are not feen in
Selma. Befide the ftone of Mora I fliall fall
afleep. The winds whifl:ling in my grey hair,
fhall not awaken me. Depart on thy wings, O
wind 1 thou canft notdifturb the refl: of the bard;

The

i68 B E R R AT H O N:

The night is long, but his eyes are heav>^;
•Departj thou ruftling blaft."

« But why art thou fad, fon of Fingal ? Why
grows the cloud of thy foul ? The chiefs of other
times are departed. They have gone without
their fanne. The fons of future years (hall pafs
away. Another race fhall arife. The people
iare like the waves of ocean : like the leaves of
woody Morven, they pafs away in the ruftling
blaft, and other leaves life their green heads on
high."

Did thy beauty laft, O Ryno*? Stood th6
ftrength of car-borne Ofcar ? Fingal himfelf

departedi

* RynO) the fon of Fiiigal, who was killed in Ireland, in
the war againft Swaran, was remarkable for the beauty of
iiis perfon, his fwlftnefs and great exploits. Minvane, th.6
daughter of Morni, and fitter to Gaul, was in love with
Ryno. Her lamentation over her lover follows.

SHE blufhing fad, from Morven's rocks, bends over thes-
darkly-rolling fea. She fees the youth in all their arms.
tVhere, Ryno, where art tliou ?

Our dark looks told that he was low ! That pale vHe hero
flew on clouds ! That in the gi-afs of Morven's hills, his feeble
voice was heard in wind .'

And is the fon of Fingal fdlen on Ullin'i molfy plains ?
Strong was the arm that vanquiihed him I Ah me ! T anl
alone !

Alone I fhall not be, ye winds ! that lift my dark-brown
hair. My fighs Ihall not long mix with your ftrcam ; for I
mull fleep with Jlyno.

I fee

A P O E M. 209

departed. The halls of his fathers forgot his
Heps. Shalt thou then remain, thou aged bard !
when the mighty have failed ? But my fame fhall
remain, and grow like the oak of Morven ;
which li ts its broad head to the ftorm, and
rejoices in the courfe of the wind i

I fee thee not, with beauty's fteps, return' t from the
chace. The night is round Minvane's love. Dark filence
dwells with Ryno.

Where are thy dogs, and where thy bow r Thy fhield that
was fo ftrong ? Thy fword Jike heaven's delcending fire ^ The
bloody fpear of Ryno ?

I fee them mixed in thy deep fhip ; I fee them fliained
■with blood. No arms are in thy narrow hall, O darkly-
dwelling Ryno !

When will the morning come, and fay, " arife, thou king
of fpears ! arife, the hunters are abroad. The hinds are near
thee, Ryno J."

Away, thou fair-haired morning, away ! the {lumbering
king hears thee not? The hinds bound over his narrow tomb ;
for death dwells round young Ryno.

But I will tread foftly, my king ! and Ileal to the bed of
thy repofe. Minv^ae will lie in filence, nor difturb the
{lumbering Ryno.

The maids fhall feek me ; but they fhall not find me : they
Ihall follow my departure with fongs. But I fhall not hear
you, O maids J I lleep with fair-haired Ryno.

Vol. IL

DISSERTATION

CONCERNING THE

^RA OF OSS I AN.

P 2

blSSERTATlON

CONCERNING THE

i^ R A OF O S S I A K

INQUIRIES into the antiquities of nations
afford more pleafure than any real advantage
to mankind. The ingenious may form fyftems
of hiftory on probabilities and a fewfaftsj but
at a great diftance of time, their accounts muft
be vague and uncertain. The infancy of dates
and kingdoms is as deftitute of great events, as
of the means of tranfmitting them to pofterity.
The arts of polifhed life, by which alone fadts
can be preferved with certainty, are the produc-
tion of a well-formed community. It is then
hiftorians begin to write, and public tranfa»5lions
to be worthy remembrance. The aflions of for-
iner times are left in obfcurity, or magnified by
uncertain traditions. Hence it is that we find fo
P 3 much

214 A DISSERTATION concerning the

much of the marvellous in the origin of every
nation i pofterity being always ready to believe
any thing, however fabulous, that refledls ho-
nour on their anceftors.

The Greeks and Ronnans were remarkable for
this weaknefs. They fwallowed the mod abfurd
fables concerning che high antiquities of their
rcfpeflive nations* Good hiftorians, however,
rofe very early amongft them, and tranfmitted,
with lullre, their great actions to polterity. It
is to them that they owe that unrivalled fame
they now enjoy, while the great aftions of other
nations are involved in fables, or loft in obfcu-
rity. The Celtic nations afford a ftriking in-
flance of this kind. They, though once the
mailers of Europe from the mouth of the river
Oby *, in Ruffia, to Cape Finifterre, the weftern
point of Gallicia in Spain, are very little men-
tioned in hi (lory. They trufted their fame to
tradition and the longs of their bards, which,
by the vicifiitude of human affairs, are long
iince loft. Their ancient language is the only
monument that reinains of them ; and the traces
of it being found in places fo widely diftant frum
each other, ferves only to fhew the extent of their
ancient power, but throws very little light on
iheir hiltory.

* riin. 1. 6.

Of

JE R A of O S S i A N. 215

Of all the Celtic nations, that which poflefled
old Gaul is the mod renowned j not perhaps on
account of worth fuperior to the reft, but for
their wars with a people who had hiftorians to
tranfmit the fame of their enennies, as well as
their own, to pofterity. Britain was firft peopled
by them, according to the teftimony of the beft
authors *j its fituation in refped to Gaul makes
the opinion probable ; but what puts it beyond
all difpute, isj that the fame cuftoms and lan-
guage prevailed among the inhabitants of both
in the days of Julius C^far f.

The colony from Gaul pofTefled themfelves,
at firft, of that part of Britain which was next
to their own country j and fpreading north-
ward, by degrees, as they increafed in numbers,
peopled the whole ifland. Some adventurers
pairing over from thofe parts of Britain that are
within fight of Ireland, were the founders of the
Irifh nation : which is a more probable ftory
than the idle fables of Milefian and Gallician
colonies. Diodorus Siculus J mentions it as a
thing well known in his time, that the inhabit-
ants of Ireland were originally Britons, and his
teftimony is unqueftionable, when we confider

* CiEf. ]. 5. Tac. Agric. c. 2. f Casfar. Pomp.

Mel. Tacitus. % Died. Sic. 1. 5.

P 4 that.

2i6 A DISSERTATION concerning the

that, for many ages, the language and cuftoms
of both nations were the fame.

Tacitus was of opinion that the ancient
Caledonians were of German extradl j but even
^he ancient Germans themfelves were Gauls.
The prefent Germans, properly fo called, were
not the fame with the ancient Celtse. The
manners and cuftoms of the two nations were
fimilarj but their language different. The Ger-
mans * are the genuine defcendants of the an-
cient Scandinavians, who crofled, in an early
period, the Baltic. The Celtae f, anciently,
fent many colonics into Germany, all of whom
retained their own laws, language^ and cuftoms,
till they were difllpated, in the Roman empire ;
and it is of them, if any colonies came from
Germany into Scotland, that the ancient Cale-
donians were defcended.

But whether the Caledonians were a colony
of the Celtic Germans, or the fame with the Gauls
that firft pofleflTed themfelves of Britain, is a
matter of no moment at this diftance of time.
Whatever their origin was, we find them very
numerous in the time of Julius Agricola, which
is a prefumption that they were long before
fettled in the country. The form of their
government was a ir.ixture of ariftocracy and

* JjLrabo, 1. 7. t Cxf. 1. 6. Liv. 1. 5. Tac. de mor. Germ.

monarchy,

lERA of O S S I AN. 217

monarchy, as it was in all the countries where the
Druids bore the chief fvvay. This order of men
feems to have been fornned on the fame princi-
ples with the Dadlyli Idse and Guretes of the
ancients. Their pretended intercourfe with hea-
ven, their magic and divination were the fame.
The knowledge of the Druids in natural caufes,
and the properties of certain things, the fruit of
the experiments of ages, gained them a mighty
reputation among the people. The efteem of
the populace foon increafed into a veneration for
the order J which thefe cunning and ambitious
priefts took care to improve, to fuch a degree,
that they, in a manner, ingrolTed the manage-
ment of civil, as well as religious, matters, k
is generally allowed that they did not abufe this
extraordinary power j the preferving their cha-
radcr of fandlity was (o eflential to their in-
fluence, that they never broke out into violence
or opprefllon. The chiefs were allowed to exe-
cute the laws, but the legiflativc power was en-
tirely in the hands of the Druids*. It was by
their authority that the tribes were unieed, in
times of the greateft: danger, under one head.
This temporary king, or Vergobrecus f, was
chofen by them, and generally laid down his of-
fice at the end of the war. Thefe prieRs en-

* CxC 1. 6. f Fer-gubreth, f/^e man to judge.

4 joyed

ftiS A DISSERTATION concerning the

joyed long this extraordinary privil'^ge among
the Celtic nations who lay beyond the pale of
the Ronnan empire. It was in the beginning of
the fecond century that their power among the
Caledonians begun to decline. The traditions con--
cerningTrathal andCormac, anccllors to Fingal,
are full of the particulars of the fall of the Druids i
a fingular fate, it muft be owned, of priefts, who
had once eftablifhed their fuperftition.

The continual wars of the Caledonians againfl:
the Romans hindered the better fort from initiat-
ing themfelves, as the cuflom formerly was, into
the order of the Druids. The precepts of their
religion were confined to a fcwj and were not
much attended to by a people inured to war*
The Vergobretus, or chief magiftrate, ^as
chofen without the concurrence of the hierarchy,
or continued in his office againfl: their will.
Continual power (Irengthened his interefl: among
the tribes, and enabled him to fend down, as
hereditary to his pofl:erity, the office he had
only received himlelf by election.

On occafion of a new war againft the Ki/tg of
the Worldy as tradition emphatically calls the
Roman emperor, the Druids, to vindicate the
honour of the order, began to refume their an-
cient privilege of chufing the Vergobretus.
Garmal, the fon of Tarno, being deputed by

them^

JE R A of O S S I A N. 219

them, came to the grandfather of the celebrated
Fingal, who was then Vergobretus, and com-
manded him, in the name of the whole order,
to lay down his office. Upon his refufal, a civil
war commenced, which foon ended in almoft
the total extindion of the religious order of the
Druids. A few that remained, retired to the
dark recefles of their groves, and the caves they
had formerly ufed for their meditations. It is
then we find them in the circle of ft ones ^ and un-
heeded by the world. A total difregard for the
order, and utter abhorrence of the Druidical
rites enfued. Under this cloud of public' hate,
all that had any knowledge of the religion of
the Druids became exrinft, and the nation fell
into the laft degree of ignorance of their rices
and ceremonies.

It is no matter of wonder then, that Fingal
and his fon Offian diflikcd the Druids, who were
the declared enemies to their fuccefTion in the
fupreme magiftracy. It is a fingular cafe, it
mufl: be allowed, that there are no traces of
religion in the poems afcribed to OfTian ; as the
poetical compofitions of other nauions are To
clofely conne6lcd with their myihology. But gods
are not necelfary, when the poet has genius. It is
hard to account for it to thofe who are not made
acquainted with the manner of the old Scottifli
2 bards.

iio A DIS5ERTATIOT concerning the

bards. That race of men carried their notions
of martial honour to an extravagant pitch. Any
aid given their heroes in battle, was thought to
derogate from their fame j and the bards imme-
diately transferred the glory of the adion to him
tvho had given that aid.

Had the poet brought down gods, as often as
Homer hath done, to affift his heroes, his work
had nor confided of eulogiums on men, but
of hymns to fuperior beings. Thofe who write
in the Galic language feldom mention religion
in their profane poetry j and when they pro-
fefTedly write of religion, they never mix with
their compofitions, the adlions of their heroes.
This cuftom alone, even though the religion of
the Druids had not been previoufly extinguifhed,
may, in fome meafure, excufe the author's filcnee
concerning the religion of ancient times.

To allege, that a nation is void of all re-
ligion, would betray ignorance of the hiP
tory of mankind. The traditions of their fa-
thers, and their own obfervations on the works
of nature, together with that fuperftition which
is inherent in the human frame, have^ in all
ages, raifed in the minds of men fome idea of a
fuperior being. Hence it is, that in the darkefl:
times, and amongft the mod barbarous nations*
the very populace themfelvcs had fome faint no-

tioni

JE R A of O S S I A N. 221

tion, at leaft, of a divinity. The Indians, who
worfhip no God, believe that he exifts. It would
be doing injuftice to the author of thefe poems, to
think, that he had not opened his conceptions to
that prinnitive and greateft of all truths. But let his
religion be what it will, it is certain he has not
alluded to Chriflianity, or any of its rites, in his
poems J which ought to fix his opinions, at lead,
to an asra prior to that religion. Conjedures,
on this fubjeft, muft fupply the place of proof.
The perfecution begun by Dioclefian, in the
year 303, is the moft probable time in which the
firft dawning of Ghriftianity in the north of Bri-
tain can be fixed. The humane and mild charac-
ter of Conftantius Chlorus, who commanded then
in Britain, induced the perfecuted Chriftians to
take refuge under him. Some of them, through
a zeal to propagate their tenets, or through fear,
went beyond the pale of the Roman empire, and
fettled among the Caledonians ; who were ready
to hearken to their dodrines, if the religion of
the Druids was exploded long before.

These miflionaries, either through choice,
or to give more weight to the doctrine they ad-
vanced, took pofTeflion of the cells and groves
of the Druids J and it was from this retired life
they had the name of C«/^^^;*, which in the Ian*

* Culdich.

222 A DISSERTATION concerning the

guage of the country fignified feqtiejlered perfons^
It was with one of the Culdees that Offian, in his
extreme old age, is faid to have difpuced con-
cerning the Chriftian religion. This difpute, they
fay, is extant, and is couched in verfe, according
to the cuflom of the times. The extreme igno-
rance on the part of Oflian of the Chriftian te-
nets, ihews, that that religion had only been
lately introduced, as it is not eafy to conceive,
how one of the firft rank could be totally unac-
quainted with a religion that had been known
for any time in the country. The difpute bears
the genuine marks of antiquity. The obfolete
phrafes and cxprefiions peculiar to the times,
prove it to be no forgery. If Oflian then lived
at the introduction of Chriftianity, as by all ap-
pearance he did, his epoch will be the latter end
of the third, and beginning of the fourth cen-
tury. Tradition here fteps in with a kind of
prdof.

The exploits of Fingal againft Caracul *, the
fon of the king of the world, are among the firfl
brave aftions of his youth. A complete poem,
which relates to this fubjeft, is printed in this
coile(5lion.

* Ca.rac'huil, ttrrible eye. Carac-'healla, ienihU look. Ca^
i-;ic-.challamh, a fort of upper garment.

In

JE R A of O S S I A N. 223

In t^e year 210 the emperor Severus, after re-
turning from his expedition againft the Caledo-
nians, at York fell into the tedious illnefs of
which he afterwards died. The Caledonians and
Maiatap, refuming courage from his indifpofi-
tion, took arms in order to recover the poiref-r
iions they had loft, The enraged emperor comr.
inanded his army to march into their country,
and to deftroy it with fire and fword. His or^
ders were but ill executed, for his fon, Cara-
calla, was at the head of the army, and his
thoughts were entirely taken up with the hopes
of his father's death, and with fchemes to fup-
plant his brother Geta. He fcarcely had en-
tered the enemy's country, when news was
brought him that Severus was dead. — A fudden
peace is patched up with the Caledonians, and,
as it appears from Dion Caflius, the country they
had loft to Severus was reftored to them.

The Caracul of Fingal is no other than Cara-
calla, who, as the fon of Severus, the Emperor
of Rome, whofe dominions were extended al-
rnoft. over the known world, was not without
reafon called the Son of the King of the -world. The
fpace of tune between 2[i, the year Severus
died, and the beginning of the fourth century
is not fo great, but Oflian the fon of Fingal
might have feen the Chriftians whom the perfe-

cu£ioi>

^24 A DISSERTATION concerning the

cution under Dioclefian had driven beyond the
pale of the Roman ennpire.

In one of the many lamentations on the death
of Ofcar, a battle which he fought againft
Caros, king of Ihips, on the banks of the wind-
ing Garun *, is mentioned among his great
a6lions. It is more than probable, that the
Caros mentioned here, is the fame with the
noted ufurper Garaufius, who aflumed the purple
in the year 287, and feizing on Britain, defeated
the emperor Maximinian Herculius, in feveral
naval engagements, which gives propriety to hi«
being called the King of Ships. The winding Carun
is that fmall river retaining ftill the name of
Carron, and runs in the neighbourhood of Agri-
cola's wall, which Garaufius repaired to obftru<5t
the incurfions of the Galedonians, Several other
pafifages in traditions allude to the wars of the
Romans j but the two juft mentioned clearly fix
the epocha of Fingal to the third century j and
this account agrees exaflly with the Irifh hifto-
ries, which place the death of Fingal, the fon of
Comhal, in the year 283, and that of Ofcar
and their own celebrated Cairbre, in the year
296.

Some people may imagine, that the allufions
to the Roman hiftory might have been derived

* Car-avoD, Winding river.

by

JE R A of O S S I A N, 2^5

by tradition, from learned men, more than from
ancient poems. This mud then have happened at
lead three ages ago, as thefe allufions are men-
tioned often in the compofitions of thofe times.

Every one knows what a cloud of ignorance
and barbarifm overfprcad the north of Europe
three hundred years ago. The minds of men,
addided to fuperftition, contradted a narrownefs
that deftroyed genius. Accordingly we find the
compofitions of thofe times trivial and puerile to
the laft degree. But let it be allowed, that>
amidft all the untoward circumftances of the
age, a genius might arifcj it is not eafy to de-
termine what could induce him to allude to the
Roman times. We find no facl to favour any
defigns which could be entertained by any man
who lived in the fifteenth century.

The ftrongeft objedion to the antiquity of
the poems now given to the public under the
name of Offian, is the improbability of their be-
ing handed down by tradition through fo many
centuries. Ages of barbarifm fome will fay,
could not produce 'poems abounding v/ith the
difinterefted and generous fentiments fo confpi-
cuous in the compofitions of Offian -, and could
thefe ages produce them, it is impoflible but they
muft be lofl, or altogether corrupted in a long
AiccelTion of barbarous generations.

Vol. II. Q^ Xhes^

126 A DISSERTATION concerning the

These objeftions naturally fuggefl: thennrelves
to nnen unacquainted with the ancient flate of
the northern parts of Britain. The bards, who
were an inferior order of the Druids, did not
(hare their bad fortune. They were fpared by
the viiflorious king, as it was through their
means only he could hope for immortality to his
fame. They attended him in the camp, and con-
tributed to eftablifh his power by their fongs*
His great aflions were magnified, and the popu-
lace, who had no ability to examine into his
charafter narrowly, were dazzled v^ith his fame
in the rhimes of the bards. In the mean timc^
men afifumed fentiments that are rarely to be
met with in an age of barbarifm. The bards
who were originally the difciples of the Druids,
had their minds opened, and their ideas enlarged,
by being initiated in the learning of that cele-
brated order. They could form a perfedl: hero
in their own minds, and afcribe that charadler to
their prince. The inferior chiefs made this ideal
charader the model of their conduct, and by
degrees brought their minds to that generous
fpirit which breathes in all the poetry of the
times. The prince, flattered by his bards, and
rivalled by his own heroes, who imitated his
charafter as defcribed in the eulogies of his
poets, endeavoured to excel his people in merit.

JE R A of O S S I A N. 227

63 he was above therm in (lacion. This emula-
tion continuing, formed at laft the general cha-
radler of the nation, happily compounded of
What is noble in barbarity, and virtuous and ge-
nerous in a polifhed people.

When virtue in peace, and bravery in war,
are the characterilbics of a nation, their a6tions
become intereding, and their fame worthy of
immortality. A generous fpirit is warmed with
noble aftiohs, and becomes ambitious of perpe-
tuating them. This is the true fource of that
divine infpiration, to which the poets of all ages
pretended. When they found their themes in-
adequate to the warmth of their imaginations,
they varnifhed them over with fables, fupplied
by their own fancy, or furnifhed by abfurd tra-
ditions. Thefe fables^ however ridiculous, had
their abettors ; pollerity either implicitly be-
lieved them, or through a vanity natural to
mankind, pretended that they did. They loved
to place the founders of their families in the days
of fable, when poetry, without the fear of con-
tradiction, could give what charaders fhe pleafed
of her heroes. It is to this vanity that we ov/e the
prefervation of what remain of the more ancient
poems. Their poetical merit made their heroes
famous in a country where heroifixi v/as mucfi
ffteemcd and admired. The pofterity of thofe
0^2 heroes.

228 A DISSERTATION concerning the

heroes, or thofe who pretended to be defcended
from them, heard with pleafure the eulogiums
of their anceftors ; bards were employed to re-
peat the poems, and to record the connection of
their patrons with chiefs fo renov/ned. Every
chief in procefs of time had a bard in his family,
and the office became at lad hereditary. By the
fuccefiion of thefe bards, the poems concerning
the anceftors of the family were handed down
from generation to generation ; they were re-
peated to the whole clan on folemn occafions,
and always alluded to in the new compofitions of
the bards. This cuftom came down to near our
own times ; and after the bards were difconti-
nued, a great number in a clan retained by me-
mory, or committed to writing, their compofi-
tions, and founded the antiquity of their families
on the authority of their poems.

The ufe of letters was not known in the north
of Europe till long after the inftitution of the
bards: the records of the families of their pa-
trons, their own, and more ancient poems were
handed down by tradition. Their poetical com-
pofitions were admirably contrived for that pur-
pofe. They were adapted to mufic ; and the
mod perfect harmony was obferved. Each
verfe was fo connefted with thofe which preceded
or followed it, that if one line had been remem-
bered

.^ R A of O S S I A N. 229

bered in a ftanza, it was almoft impofTible to
forget tiie reft. The cadences followed in fo na-
tural a gradation, and the words were fo adapted
to the common turn of the voice, after it is
raifed to a certain key, that it was almoft im-
poflible, from a fimilaricy of found, to fubftitute
one word for another. This excellence is pecu-
liar to the Celtic tongue, and is perhaps to be
met with in no other language. Nor does this
choice of words clog the fenfe or weaken the ex-
preflTion. The numerous fleftions of confonants,
and variation in declenfion, make the lang-uage
very copious.

The defcendants of the Celt^, Vv/ho inhabited
Britain and its ifles, were not fingular in this
method of preferving the moft precious monu-
ments of their nation. The ancient laws of the
Greeks were couched in verfe, and handed down
by tradition. The Spartans, through a long
habit, became fo fond of this cuftom, that they
would never allow their laws to be committed
to writing. The aftions of great men, and the
eulogiums of kings and heroes, were prcferved in
the fame manner. All the hiftorical monuments
of the old Germans were comprehended in their
ancient fongs * ! which were either hymns to
their gods, or elegies in praife of their heroes,

* Tacitus Ue mor. Germ.

Q^3 and

230 A DISSERTATION concerning the

and were intended to perpetuate the great events
in their nation which were carefully interwoven
with them. This fpecies of compofition was not
committed to writing, but delivered by oral
tradition *. The care they took to have the
poems taught to their children, the uninter-
rupted cuftom of repeating them upon certain
occafions, and the happy meafure of the verfe,
ferved to preferve them for a long tiiiic uncor-
rupted. This oral chronicle of the Germans
was not forgot in the eighth century, and ic
probably would have remained to this day, had
not learning, which thinks every thing, that is
not committed to writing, fabulous, been intro-
duced. !t was from poetical traditions that
GarciliaiTo compofed his account of the Yncas
of Peru. The Peruvians had loft all other mo-
numents of their hiftory, and it was from an-
cient poems which his mother, a princefs of the
blood of the Yncas, taught him in his youth,
that he colieifted the materials of his hiftory. If
other nations then, that had been often overrun
by enemies, and had fent abroad and received
colonies, could for many ages preferve, by
oral tradition, their laws and hiftories uncor-
rupted, it is much more probable that the an-
cient Scots, a people fo free of intermixture

* jibbe de la Blcterie Remarque s/ur la Germa'ine,

with

^ R A of O S S I A N. 231

with foreigners, and Co ftrongly attached to the
memory of their anceltors, had the works of their
bards handed down with great purity.

What is advanced, in this (hort Dlffertation,
it muft be confefTed, is mere conjeflure. Be-
yond the reach of records, is fettled a gloom,
which no ingenuity can penetrate. The manners
defcribed, in thefe poems, fuit the ancient Cel-
tic times, and no other period, that is known in
hiftory. We mufl:, therefore, place the heroes
far back in antiquity; and it matters little, who
were their cotemporaries in other parts of the
"world. If we have placed Fingal in his proper
period, we do honour to the manners of barba-
rous times. He exercifed every manly virtue in
Caledonia, while Heliogabalus difgrgced human
fiature at liome.

0.4

DISSERTATION

CONCERNING THE

POEMS ofOSSIAN,

DISSERTATION

CONCERNING THE

pOEMS OF OSSIAN,

THE hiftory of thofe nations, who originally
pofTcffed the north of Europe, is lefs
known than their manners. Deftitute of the
life of letters, they themfelves had not the
means of tranfmitting their great anions to
remote pofterity. Foreign writers faw them
only at a diftance, and defcribed them as they
found them. The vanity of the Romans in-
duced them to confider the nations beyond the
pale of their empire as barbarians; and confe-
quently their hiftory unworthy of being invefti-
gated. Their manners and fingular charafter
were matters of curiofity, as they committed them
to record. Some men, otherwife of great merit
among ourfelves, give into confined ideas on

this

^^6 A DISSERTATION concerning the

this fubjedt. Having early imbibed theit idea 0^
exalted manners from the Greek and Roman
writers, they fcarcely ever afterwards have the
fortitude to allow any dignity of charafler to any
nation deftitute of the ufe of letters.

Without derogating from the fame of
Greece and Rome, we may confider antiquity
beyond the pale of their empire worthy of fome
attention. The nobler pafiions of the mind
never Ihoot forth more free and unreftrained than
in the times we call barbarous. That irregular
manner of life, and thofe manly purfuits from
which barbarity takes its name, are highly fa-
vourable to a ftrength of mind unknown in
polifhed times. In advanced fociety the charac-
ters of men are more uniform and difguifed. The
human paflions lie in fome degree concealed
behind forms, and artificial manners j and the
powers of the foul, without an opportunity of
exerting them, lofe their vigor. The times of
regular government, and poUflied manners, are
therefore to be wiflied for by the feeble and weak
in mind. An unfettled ftate, and thofe convul-
fions which attend it, is the proper field for an
exalted charadler, and the exertion of great parts.
Merit there rifes always fuperior; no fortuitous
event can raife the timid and mean into power.
To thofe who look upon antiquity in this light,

it

P O E M S of O S S I A N. ^^7

it is an agreeable profpedt j and they alone can
have real pleafure in tracing nations to their
fource.

The eftablifhment of the Celtic ftates, in the
north of Europe, is beyond the reach of written
annals. The traditions and fongs to which they
trufled their hiftory, were loft, or altogether
corrupted in their revolutions and migrations,
which were fo frequent and univerfal, that no
kingdom in Europe is now pofTefied by its origi*
nal inhabitants. Societies were formed, and
kingdoms erected, from a mixture of nations,
who, in procefs of time, loft all knowledge of
their own origin. If tradition could be depended
upon, it is only among a people, from all time,
free from intermixture with foreigners. We are
to look for thefe among the mountains and inac-
ceflible parts of a country : places, on account
of their barrennefs, uninviting to an enemy, or
whofe natural ftrength enabled the natives to
repel invafions. Such are the inhabitants of the
mountains of Scotland. We, accordingly, find,
that they differ materially from thofe who poflefs
the low and more fertile part of the kingdom.
Their language is pure and original, and their
manners are thofe of an ancient and unmixed
race of men. Confcious of their own antiquity,
they long defpifed others, as a new and mixed

people.

fijS A DISSERTATION concerning tue

people. As they lived in a country only fit for
pafture, they were free from that toil and bufi-
nefs, which engrofs the attention of a comnnercial
people. Tneir amufement confided in hearing
or repeating their fongs and traditions, and thefc
intirely turned on the antiquity of their nation^
and the exploits of their forefathers. It is no
wonder, therefore, that there are more remains
of antiq'jity among them, than among any other
people in Europe. Traditions, however, con-
cerning remote periods are only to be regarded,
in fo far as they coincide with cotemporary
writers of undoubted credit and veracity.

No writers began their accounts from a more
early period, than the hidorians of the Scots
nation. Without records^ or even tradition it-
felf, they give a long lift of ancient kings, and
a detail of their tranfailions, with a fcrupulous
cxadlnefs. One might naturally fuppofe, that,
tvhen they had no authentic annals, they (hould^
at leaft, have recourfe to the traditions of their
country, and have reduced them into a regular
fyftem of hiftory. Of both they feem to have
been equally deftitute. Born in the low coun-
try, and ftrangers to the ancient language of
their nation, they contented themfelvcs with
copying from one another, and retailing the
fame fidions, in a new colour and drefs.

John

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 23^

John Fordun was the firft who collcfted
thole fragments of the Scots hidory, which had
efcaped the brutal policy of Edward I. and re-
duced them into order. His accounts, in fo far
as they concerned recent tranfadlions, deferved
credit : beyond a certain period, they were fa-
bulous and unfatisfadlory. Some time before
Fordun wrote, the king of England, in a letter
to the pope, had run up the antiquity of his na-^
tion to a very remote aera. Fordun, poffefled o£
all the national prejudice of the age, was un*
willing that his country Ihould yield, in point
of antiquity, to a people, then its rivals and
enemies. Deftitute of annals in Scotland, he
had recourfe to Ireland, which, according to
the vulgar errors of the times, was reckoned the
firfl: habitation of the Scots. He found, there,
that the Irilh bards had carried their prctenfions
to antiquity as high, if not beyond any nation
in Europe. It was from them he took thofe
improbable fiflions, which form the firft part of
his hiftory.

The writers that fucceeded Fordun implicitly
followed his fyftem, though they fometimes
varied from him in their relations of particular
tranfaclions, and the order of fuccefl;on of their
kings. As they had no new lights, and were,
equally with him, unacquainc<jd with the tradi-
^ tions

240 A DISSERTATION concerning the

tions of their country, their hiftories contair?
little information concering the origin of the
Scots. Even Buchanan himfelf, except the
elegance and vigour of his ftyle, has very little
to recommend him. Blinded with political pre-
judices, he feemed more anxious to turn the
fiftions of his predeceffors to his own purpofes
than to detedt their mifreprefentations, or invef-
tigate truth amidft the darknefs which they had
thrown round it. It therefore appears, that
little can be colledled from their own hiftorians,
concerning the firft migration of the Scots into
Britain.

That this ifland was peopled frorii GaUl ad-»
mits of no doubt. Whether colonies came after-
wards from the north of Europe is a matter of
meer fpeculation. When South Britain yielded
to the power of the Romans, the unconquered
nations to the north of the province were diftin-
guifhed by the name of Caledonians, from theif
very name, it appears, that they were of thofe
Gauls, who pofielTed themfelves originally of
Britain. It is compounded of two Cellic words,
Cael fignifying Cehs^ or Gauls, and Dun or Don,
a hill -y fo that Cael-don, or Caledonians, is as
much as to fay, the Celis of the hill country. The
Highlanders, to this day, call themfelves Gael,
their language Gaelic^ or GaliCy and their country
4 Caeldoch^

P O E M S of O S S I A N. I41

Caeldochj which the Romans foftened into Cale-
donia. This, of itfelf, is fufRcient to demonftrate,
they are the genuine defcendents of the ancient
Caledonians, and not a pretended colony of Scots,
who fettled firfl: in the north, in the third or
fourth century.

From the double meaning of the word Cael,
which i\gn\^GS Jir^.:jgers, as well as Gaulsj or Celts,
fome have imagined, that the anceftors of the
Caledonians were of a different race from the
reft of the Britons, and that they received their
name upon that account. This opinion, fay
they, is fupported by Tacitus, who, from feve-
ral circumftances, concludes, that the Caledo-
nians were of German extraflion. A difcuflioii
of a point fo intricate, at this diftance of time,
could neither be fatisfadory nor important.

Towards the latter end of the third, and
beginning of the fourth century, we meet with
the Scots in the north, Porphyrius * makes the
firft mention of them about that time. As the
Scots were not heard of before that period, moft
writers fuppofed them to have been a colony,
newly come to Britain, and that the Fi^s were
the only genuine defcendents of the ancient Ca-
ledonians. This miftake is eafily removed. The

. * St. Hierom. ad Ctefiphon.
Vol. II. R Cale-

242 A DISSERTATION concerning the

Caledonians, in procefs of time, became natu-
rally divided into two diftincl nations^ as pof-
fefling parts of the country, intirely ditierent in
their nature and foil. The weftern coaft of
Scotland is hilly and barren; towards the eafl: the
country is plain, and fit for tillage. The inha-
bitants of the mountains, a roving and uncon-
trouled race of men, lived by feeding of cattle,
and what they killed in hunting. Their employ-
ment did not fix them to one place. They
removed from one heath to another, as fuited
beft with their convenience or inclination. They
were not, therefore, improperly called, by their
neighbours, Scuite, or the ivandering naticn ;
which is evidently the origin of the Roman name
of ScGti.

On the other hand, the Caledonians, who pof-
ffcfled the eaft coaft of Scotland, as the divifion
of the country was plain and fertile, applied them-
felves £0 agriculture, and raifmg of corn. It was
from this, that the Galic name of the Pitls pro-
ceeded i for they are called, in that language,
Cruilbnicbf i. e. tbe "ivbeas or corn-eaters. As the
Picls lived in a country fo different in its nature
from that poflefTed by the Scots, fo their national
charavfler fuffered a material change. Unob-
ftruded by mountains, or lakes, their commu-
nication with one another was free and frequent.

Society,

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 243

Society, therefore, became fooner edabllfhed
among them, than among the Scots, and, con-
fequently, they were much fooner governed by
civil magiftrates and laws. This, at laft:, pro-
duced fo great a difference in the manners of the
two nations, that they began to forget their
common origin, and almoft continual quarrels
and animofities fubfifted between them. Thefe
animofities, after fome ages, ended in the fub-
verfion of the Pidifh kingdom, but not in the to-
tal extirpation of the nation, according to mod of
the Scots writers, who feemed to think it more
for the honour of their countrymen to annihi-
late, than reduce a rival people under their
obedience. It is certain, however, that the very
name of the Pids vv^as loft, and thofe that re-
mained were fo completely incorporated with
their conquerors, that they foon loft all memory
of their own origin.

The end of the Pi6liftl government is placed
fo near that period^ to which authentic annals
reach, that it is matter of wonder, that we have
no monuments of their language or hiftory re-
maining. This favours the fyftem I have laid
down. Had they originally been of a different
race from the Scots, their language of courfe
Would be different. The contrary is the cafe.
The names of places in the Pi(fli(h dominions,
R 2 and

244- A DISSERTATION concerning the

and the very names of their kings, which are
handed down to us, are of Galic original, which
is a convincing proof, that the two nations were,
of old, one and the fame, and only divided into
two governments, by the efFe(51: which their fitua-
tion had upon the genius of the people.

The name of Pi5!s is faid to have been given
by the Romans "to the Caledonians, who pof-
felTed the eaft coaft of Scotland, from their
painting their bodies. The ftory is fiily and
the argum.ent abfurd. But let us revere anti-
quity in her very follies. This circumftance
made fome imagine, that the Picls were of Britifli
extraft, and a different race of men from the
Scots. That more of the Britons, who fled
northward from the tyranny of the Romans,
fettled in the low country of Scotland, than
among the Scots of the mountains, may be eafily
imagined, from the very nature of the country.
It was they who introduced painting among the
Pi6ls. From this circumftance, affirm fome
antiquaries, proceeded the name of the latter,
to diftinguifh them from the Scots, who never
had that art among them, and from the Britons,
who difcontinued it after the Roman conqueft.

The Caledonians, moft certainly, acquired a
confiderable knowledge in navigation, by their
living on a coaft interfedcd with many arms of

the

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 245

the fea, and in iflands, divided, one from ano-
ther, by wide and dangerous firths. It is, there-
fore, highly probable, that they, very early,
found their way to the north of Ireland, which
is within fight of their own country. That Ire-
land was firft peopled fronn Britain is, at length,
a matter that admits of no doubt. The vicinity
of the two iflands ; the exadl correfpondence of
the ancient inhabitants of both, in point of man-
ners and language, are fufficient proofs, even if
we had not the tefhimony of * authors of un-
doubted veracity to confirm it. The abettors of
the moft romantic fyftems of Iri(h antiquities
allow it; but they place the colony from Britain
in an improbable and remote a^ra. I fhall eafily
admit, that the colony of the Firbolgi confef-
fedly the Belga of Britain, fettled in the fouth
of Ireland, before the Caely or Caledonians, dif-
covered the north: but it is not at all likely,
that the migration of the Firbolg to Ireland
happened many centuries before the chriftian
2era.

The poem of Temora throv/s confiderable
light on this fubjeft. The accounts given in it
agree fo well with what the ancients have deli-
vered, concerning the firft population and in-

* Dio. Sic. I. 5.

K. 3 habitants

246 A DISSERTATION concerning the

habitants of Ireland, that every unbiafled per-
fon will confels them more probable, than the
legends handed down, by tradition, in that
country. It appears, that, in the days of Tra-
thal, grandfather to Fingal, Ireland was poflefied
by two nations i thtFirbolg ov Belga of Britain,
who inhabited the foath, and the Cacij who
pafTed over from Caledonia and the Hebrides to
Ulfter. The two nations, as is ufual among an
unpolifned and lately fettled people, were divided
into fmall dynafties, fubjeft to petty kings, or
chiefs, independent of one another. In this
lituaticn, it is probable, they continued long,
without any material revolution in the ftate of
the ifiand, until Crothar, Lord of Atha, a coun-
try in Connaught, the mod: potent chief of the
Firbdg, carried away Conlama, the daughter
of Cathmin, a chief of the Cael, who pofleffed
Ulfter.

Conlama had been betrothed fome time
before to Turloch, a chief of their own nation.
Turloch refented the affront offered him by Cro-
thar, made an irruption into Connaught, and
killed Cormul, the brother of Crothar, who
came to oppofe his progrefs, Crothar himfelf
then took arms, and either killed or expelled
Turloch. The war, upon this, became general,
between the two nations : and the Cael were

reduced

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 047

reduced to the lad extremity. In this fituaticin,
they applied, for aid, to Trathal king of Mor-
ven, who fent his brother Conar, ah-eady fa-
mous for his great exploits, to their relief.
Conar, upon his arrival in Ulfter, was chofen
king, by the unanimous confent of the Caledo-
nian tribes, who poflfefled that country. The
war was renewed with vigour and fuccefs j but
the Firbolg appear to have been rather repelled
than fubdued. In fucceeding reigns, we learn
fronn epifodes in the fanne poem, that the chiefs
of Atha made feveral efforts to become monarchs
of Ireland, and to expel the race of Conar.

To Conar fucceeded his fon Cormac, who ap-
pears to have reigned long. In his latter days he
feems to have been driven to the laft extremity,
by an infurreflion of the Firholg^ who fupported
the pretenfions of the chiefs of Atha to the Iriili
throne. Fingal, who then was very young,
came to the aid of Cormac, totally defeated
Colc-ulla, chief of Atha, and re-eftabliflied Cor-
mac in the fole polTefTion of all Ireland. It was
then he fell in love with, and took to wife, Ros-
crana, the daughter of Cormac, who was the
mother of Ofllan.

CoRiMAC was fucceeded in the Irifli throne by

his fon, Cairbre j Cairbre by Artho, his fon,

who was the father of that Cormac, in whofe

R 4 minority

248 A DISSERTATION concerning the

minority the invafion of Swaran happened, which
is the fubjeft of the poem of Fingal. The family
of Atha, who had not relinquifhed their preten^
fions to the Irilh throne, rebelled in the mino-
rity of Cormac, defeated his adherents, and
murdered him in the palace of Temora. Cair-
bar, lord of Atha, upon this, mounted the throne.
His ufurpation foon ended with his life ; for
Fingal made an expedition into Ireland, and re-
llored, afrer various viciffitudes of fortune, the
family of Conar to the poffeflion of the king-
dom. This war is the fubjecl of Temora; the
events, though certainly heightened and em-
belliihed by poetry, feem, notwithllanding, to
have their foundation in true hiltory.

Temora contains not only the hittory of the
firft migration of the Caledonians into Ireland,
it alfo preferyes fome important fa^ls, con-
cerning the firPc fettlement of the Firholgy or Bel-
ga of BritaiUy in that kingdom, under their
leader Larthon, who was anceftor to Cairb^r
and Cathmor, who fucceffively mounted the
IriQi throne, after the death of Cormac, the fon
of Artho. I forbear to tranfcribe the pailage,
on account of its length. It is the fong of
Fonar, the bard; towards the latter end of the
feventh bock of Temora. As 'the generations
from Larthon to Cathmor, to whom the epifode

is

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 249

is addrefled, are not marked, as are thofe of the
family of Conar, the firfl: king of Ireland, we
can form no judgment of the time of the fettle-
ment of the Firbolg. It is, however, probable,
it was fome time before the Cacl, or Caledonians,
fettled in Ulfter. One important fad may be
gathered from this hiftory, that the Irifli had no
king before the latter end of the firft century.
Fingal lived, it is fuppofed, in the third cen-
tury i fo Conar, the firft monarch of the Irilli,
who was his grand-uncle, cannot be placed
farther back than the clofe of the firft. To
eftablifh this faft, is to lay, at once, afide the
pretended antiquities of the Scots and Irifh, and
to get quit of the long lift of kings which the
latter give us for a millennium before.

Of the affairs of Scotland, it is certain, no-
thing can be depended upon, prior to the reign
of Fergus, the fon of Ere, who lived in the fifth
century. The true hiftory of Ireland begins
fomewhat later than that period. Sir James
Ware*, who was indefatigable in his refearches
after the antiquities of his country, rejeds, as
mere fiction and idle romance, all that is related
of the ancient IriPxi, before the time of St. Pa-
trick, and the reign of Leogaire. It is from

* War. de antiq. Hybern. prce. p. i.

this

150 A DISSERTATION concerning the

this confideration, that he begins his hiftory at
the introduflion of Chriftianity, remarking, that
all that is delivered down, concerning the times
of paganifm, were tales of late invention,
Itrangely mixed with anachronifms and inconfif-
tencies. Such being the opinion of Ware, who
had collefled with uncommon induflry and zeal,
all the real and pretendedly ancient manufcripts,
concerning the hiftory of his country, we may,
on his authority, rejed the improbable and felf-
condemned tales of Keating and O'Fiaherty,
Credulous and puerile to the laft degree, they
have difgraced the antiquities they meant to
eftablifh. It is to be wifhed, that fome able
Irilliman, who underftands the language and
records of his country, may redeem, ere it is too
late, the genuine antiquities of Ireland, from the
hands of thefe idle fabulifts.

By comparing the hiftory in thefe poems with
the legends of the Scots and Irifh writers, and,
by afterwards examining both by the teft of the
R.oman authors, it is eafy to difcover which is
the moft probable. Probability is all that can
be eftablilhed on the authority of tradition, ever
dubious and uncertain. But when it favours the
hypothefis laid down by cotemporary writers of
undoubted veracity, and, as it were, finifhes the
figure of which they only drew the out-lines, it
5 oughr;^

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 251

plight, in the judgment of fober reafon, to be
preferred ro accounts framed in dark and diftant
periods, with little judgment, and upon no au-
thority.

Concerning the period of more than a cen-
tury, which intervenes between Fingal and the
reign of Fergus, the fon of Ere or Arcath, tradi-
tion is dark and contradiftory. Some trace up
the family of Fergus to a fon of Fingal of that
name, who makes a confiderable figure in
pffiaa's poems. The three elder fons of Fingal,
Offian, Fillan, and Ryno, dying without iflue,
the fucceflion, of courfe, devolved upon Fergus,
the fourth fon, and his pofterity. This Fergus,
fay fome traditions, was the father of Congal,
whofe fon was Arcath, t!ie father of Fergus,
properly called the firft king of Scots, as it was
in his time the Gael, who poflefTed the weftern
coaft of Scotland, began to be diflinguifhed, by
foreigners, by the name of 6'f^/j. From thence-
forward, the Scots and Pi6ls, as diftin(5t nations,
became objeds of attention to the hidorians of
other countries. The internal flate of the two
Caledonian kingdoms has always continued, and
ever muft remain, in obfcurity and fable.

It is in this epoch we muft fix the beginning

of the decay of that fpecies of heroifm, which

fubfifted in the days of Fingal. There are three

. . ftages

2S^ A DISSERTATION concerning the

ftages in human focietJ^ The firft is the refult
of confanguinity, and the natural affeftion of the
members of a family to one another. The fe-
cond begins when property is eftablifhed, and
men enter into affociations for mutual defence,
agalnft the invafions and injuftice of neighbours.
Mankind fubmit, in the third, to certain laws
and fubordinations of government, to which they
truft the fafety of their perfons and property.
As the firft is formed on nature, fo, of courfe,
it is the moft difinterefted and noble. Men, in
the laft, have leifure to cultivate the mind, and
to reftore it, with reflexion, to a primaeval dig-
nity of fentiment. The middle ftate is the region
of complete barbarifm and ignorance. About
the beginning of the fifth century, the Scots and
Picls were advanced into the fecond ftage, and,
confequently, into thofe circumfcribed fenti-
ments, which always diftinguilh barbarity. The
events which foon after happened did not at all
contribute to enlarge their ideas, or mend their
nationa' charafler.

About the year 426, the Romans, on ac-
count of domeftic commotions, entirely forfook
Britain, finding it impofiible to defend fo diftant
a frontier. The Picls and Scots, feizing this
favourable opportunity, made incurfions into the
deferted province. The Britons, enervated by

the

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 25J

the flavery of feveral centuries, and thofe vices,
which are infeparable from an advanced ftate of
civility, were not able to withftand the impe-
tuous, though irregular attacks of a barbarous
enemy. In the utmoft diftrefs, they applied to
their old mailers, the Romans, and (after the un-
fortunate ftate of the Empire could not fpare aid)
to the Saxons, a nation equally barbarous and
brave, with the enemies of whcmn they were fo
much afraid. Though the bravery of the Saxons
repelled the Caledonian nations for a time, yet
the latter found means to extend themfelves,
confiderably, towards the fouth. It is, in this
period, we muft place the origin of the arts of
civil life among the Scots. The feat of govern-
ment was removed from the mountains to the
plain and more fertile provinces of the South, to
be near the common enemy, in cafe of fudden
incurfions. Inftead of roving through unfre-
quented wilds, in fearch of fubfiftance, by
means of hunting, men applied to agriculture,
and raifing of corn. This manner of life was the
firft means of changing the national characfler.
The next thing which contributed to it was their
mixture with ftrangers.

In the countries which the Scots had con-
quered from the Britons, it is probable the mod
of the old inhabitants remained. Thefe incor-
7 porating

254 A DISSERTATION concerning the

porating with the conquerors, taught them agri-
culture, and other arts, which they thennfelves
had received from the Romans. The Septs,
however, in number as well as power, being the
mnfl: predominant, retained ftill their language,
and as many of the cuftoms of their anceftors, as
fuited with the nature of the country they pof-
feffed. Even the union of the two Caledonian
kingdonns did not much affed the national cha-
rader. Being originally defcended from the
fame ftock, the manners of the Picls and Scots
were as fimilar as the different natures of the
countries they pofTefTed permitted.

What brought about a total change in the
genius of the Scots nation, was their wars, and
other tranfactions with the Saxons. Several
counties in the foutb of Scotland were alter-
nately poffeiTed by the tv/o nations. They were
ceded, in the ninth age, to the Scots, and, it is
probable, that mod of the Saxon inhabitants re-
mained in pofleflion of their lands. During the
feveral conquefts and revolutions in England,
many fled, for refuge, into Scotland, to avoid
the oppreflion of foreigners, or the tyranny of
domeftic ufurpersj in fo much, that the Saxon
race formed perhaps near one half of tlie Scottifll
kingdom. The Saxon manners and language
daily gained ground, on the tongue and cuf-

toms

POEMS of O S S I A N. 255

toms of the ancient Caledonians, till, at lafc, the
latter were entirely relegated to inhabitants of
the mountains, who were flill unmixed with
itrangers.

It was after the accefiion of territory which
the Scots received, upon the retreat of the Ro-
mans from Britain, that the inhabitants of the
Highlands were divided into clans. The king,
when he kept his court in the mountains, was
confidered, by the whole nation, as the chief of
their blood. Their Imall number, as well as the
prcfence of their prince, prevented thofe divifions,
which, afterwards, fprung forth into fo many
feparate tribes. When the feat of government
was removed to the fouth, thofe who remained
in the Highlands were, of courfe, negiecled.
They naturally formed themfelves into fmali fo-
cieties, independent of one another. Each fo-
ciety had its own regulus, who either was, or in
the fucceffion of a few generations, was regarded
as chief of their blood. The nature of the
country favoured an inftitution of this fort. A
few valleys, divided from one another by exten-
five heaths and impaflable mountains, form the
face of the Highlands. In thefe valleys the chiefs
fixed their refidence. Round them, and almofl
within fight of their dwellings, were the habita-
tions of their relations and dependents.

The

l^d A DISSERTATION concerning the

The feats of the Highland chiefs were neither
difagreeable nor inconvenient. Surrounded with
mountains and hanging woods, they were co-
vered from the inclemency of the weather. Near
them generally ran a pretty large river, which,
difcharging itfelf not far off, into an arm of the
fea, or extenfive lake^ fwarmed with variety of
fifli. The woods were flocked with wild-fowl j
and the heaths and mountains behind them were
the natural feat of the red-deer and roe. If we
make allowance for the backward ftate of agri-
culture, the valleys were not unfertile j afford-
ing, if not all the conveniencies, at leaft the ne-
ceflaries of life. Here the chief lived, the fu-
preme judge and lawgiver of his own people ;
but his fway was neither fevere nor unjuft. As
the populace regarded him as the chief of their
blood, fo he, in return, confidered them as
members of his family. His commands there-*
fore, though abfolute and decifive, partook
more of the authority of a father, than of the
rigour of a judge. Though the whole territory
of the tribe was confidered as the property of
the chief, yet his vaflals made him no other con-
fideration for their lands than fervices, neither
burdenfome nor frequent. As he feldom went
from home, he was at no expence. His table

was

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 257

was fupplied by his own herds, and what his
numerous attendants killed in hunting.

In this rural kind of magnificence, the High-
land chiefs lived, for many ages. At a diftance
from the feat of government, and fecured, by
the inaccelTiblenefs of their country, they were
free and independent. As they had little com-
munication with Grangers, the cufloms of their
anceftors remained among them, and their lan-
guage retained its original purity. Naturally
fond of military fame, and remarkably attached
to the memory of their ancedors, they delighted
in traditions and fongs, concerning the exploits
of their nation, and efpecially of their own parti-
cular families. A fucceffion of bards was re-
tained in every clan, to hand down the memo-
rable aftions of their forefathers. As Fingal
and his chiefs were the moft renowned names in
tradition, the bards took care to place them in
the genealogy of every great family. They be-
came famous among the people, and an object
of fiction and poetry 10 the bards.

The bards ercitcd their immediate patrons
into heroes, and celebrated them in their fongs.
As the circle ot their knowledge was narrow,
their ideas were confined in proportion. A few
happy exprefiions, and the manners they repre-
fent, may pleafc thofe who under (land the lan-

YOL. 11. S 2U:io;e i

£58 A DISSERTATION concerning the

guagej their obfcuricy and inaccuracy would
difguft in a tranflarion. It was chiefly for this
reafon, that I have rejeded wholly the works of
the bards in my publications. Oflian adled in
a mere extenfive fphere, and his ideas ought to
be more ndble and univerfalj neither gives he,
1 prefume, fo many of thofe peculiarities, which
are only underftood in a certain period or coun-
try. The other bards have their beauties,
but not in this fpecies of compofition. Their
rhimesj only calculated to kindle a martial fpirit
among the vulgar, afford very little pleafure to
genuine tafte. This obfervation only regards
their poems of the heroic kind ; in every infe-
rior fpecies of poetry they are more fuccefsful.
They exprefs the tender melancholy of defpond-
ing love, with fimplicity and nature. So well
adapted are the founds of the words to the fen-
timents, that, even without any knowledge of
the language they pierce and diffolve the heart.
Succefsful love is expreffed with peculiar tender-
nefs and elegance. In all their compofitionsy
except the heroic, v^hich was folely calculated
to animate the vulgar, they give us the genuine
language of the heart, without any of thofe
affe6led ornaments of phrafcology, which, tho*
intended to beautify lentiments, diveft them of
their natural force. The ideas, it is confefTed,

are

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 259

are too local, to be admired, in another lan-
guage j to thofe who are acquainted with the
manners they reprefent, and the fcenes they
defcribe, they rniifl: afford pleafure and fatif-
fadion.

It was the locality of their defcription and
fentiment, that, probably, has kept them hither-
to in the obfcurity of an almoft loft language*
The ideas of an unpoliflied period are fo con-
trary to the prefent advanced ftate of fociety,
that more than a common mediocrity of tafte
is required, to relifh them as they deferve. Thofe
who alone are capable of transferring ancienn
poetry into a modern language, might be better
employed in giving originals of their own, were
it not for that wretched envy and meannefs which
afFedls to defpife cotemporary genius. My firft
publication was merely accidental. Had I then
met with lefs approbation, my afcer-purfuits
would have been more profitable ; at lead I might
have continued to be ftupid, without being
branded with dulnefs.

These poems irvay furnifli light to antiqua-
ries, as well as fome pleafure to the lovers of
poetry. The -firft population of Ireland, its firfb
kings, and feveral circumftances, which regard
its connexion of old with the fouth and north of
Britain, are prefented in feveral epifodes. The
S a fubjea

26o A DISSERTATION concerning the

fubjed and cataflrophe of the poem are founded
upon faifls, which regarded the firft peopling of
that country, and the contcfts between the two
Britifh nationsj who originally inhabired that
ifland. In a preceding part of this DiiTertacion,
I have fhewn how fuperior the probability of this
fyileoi is to the undigefted fictions of the Irifli
bards, and the more recent and regular legends
of both Irifli and Scottifli hiftorians. I mean
not to give offence to ths abettors of the high
antiquities of the two nations, though I have
all along exprcfled my doubts, concerning the
veracity and abilities of thofe who deliver down
their ancient hiftory. For my own part, I pre-
fer the national fame, arifing from a few certain
fads, to the legendary and uncertain annals of
ages of remote and obfciire antiquity. No king-
dom now eftabliflied in Europe can pretend to
equal antiquity with that of the Scots, inconfi-
dcrable as it may appear in other refpefts, even
according to my fyftem, fo that it is altogether
needlefs to fix. its origin a fiditious millen-
nium before.

Since the nrft publication of thefe poems,
many inhnuations have been made, and doubts
arifen, concerning their authenticity. Whether
thefe fufpicions are fuggeflcd by prejudice, or
are only the e.Teds of malice, I neither know nor

care.

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 261

care. Thofe who have doubted my veracity
have paid a con-ipliment to my genius ; and
were even the allegation true, my felf- denial
might have atoned for my fault. Without
vanity I fay it, I think I could write tolerable
poetry ; and I ' aflfure my antagonifls, that I
Ihould not tranHate what I could not imitate.

As prejudice is the effeft of ignorance, I anrj
not furprized at its being general. An age that
produces few marks of genius ought to be fpar-
ing of admiration. The truth is, the bulk of man-
kind have ever been led, by reputation more
than tafte, in articles of iiterafj^e. If all the
Romans, who admired Virgil, underftood his beau-
ties> he would have fcarce deferved to have come
down to us, through fo many centuries. Unlefs
genius were in fafhion. Homer himfelf m.ight
have written in vain. He that wifhes to come with
weight, on the fuperficial, mud fkim the fur-
face, in their own (hallow way. Were my aim
to gain the many, I would write a madrigal
fooner than an heroic poem. Laberius himfelf
would be always fure of more followers than
Sophocles.

Some who doubt the authenticity of this work,

with peculiar acutenefs appropriate them to the

Irifh nation. Tho' it is not eafy to conceive how

5hefe poems can belong to Ireland and to me, at

S 3 once.

lC2 A DISSERTATION concerning the

once, I (hall examine the fubjed', without further
animadverfion on the blunder.

Of all the nations defcended from the ancient
Ceit^, the Scots and Irilh are the moft fimilar in
language, cuftoms, and manners.' This argues
a more intimate connexion between them, than
a remote defcent from the great Celtic flock. It
is evident, in fhort, that at fome one period or
other, they formed one fociety, were fubjeft to
the fame government, and were, in all refpefts,
one and the fame people. How they became di-
vided, which the colony, or which the mother na-
tion, I have in another work amply difcuffed. The
firfl: circumftance that induced me to difregard
the vulgarly-received opinion of the Hibernian
extraction of the Scpttifli nation, was my obfer-
vations on their ancient languge. That dialeft
of the Celtic tongue, fpoken in the north of Scot-
land, is much more pure, more agreeable to its mo-
ther language, and more abounding with primi-
tives, than that now fpoken, or even that which has
been written for fome centuries back, amongft the
moft unmixed part of the Irifti nation. A Scotch-
man, tolerably converfant in his own language^
undcrftands an Irifh compofition, from that de-
rivative analogy which it has to the Gaiic of
North Britain. An Irirtiman, on the other hand,
without the aid of ftudy, can never underftand,

a com-

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 263,

n compofitlon in the Galic tongue. This affords
a proof, that the Scotch Galic is the moH: origi-v
nal, and, confequentJy, the language of a more
ancient and unmixed people. The Irlfh, how-
ever backward they may be to allow any thing to
the prejudice of their antiquity, feem inadver-
tently to acknowledge it, by the very appellation
they give to the dialetfl they fpeak. They call
their own language Gaelic^ Eirinach^ i. e. Caledo-
nian Irifiy when, on the contrary, they call the
diale(n: of North Britain a ChaeliCj or the Galedo-
fiiajt tongue^ emphatically. A circumftance of
this nature tends more to decide which is the
moft ancient nation, than the united teflimonies
of a whole legion of ignorant bards and fena-
chies, who, perhaps, never dreamed of bring-
ing the Scots from Spain to Ireland, till fome
one of them, more learned than the rell, difco^
vered, that the Romans called the firn; Iberia^
and the latter Hibernia. On fuch a flight found-
ation were probably built the romantic fidions,
concerning the Milefians of Ireland,

From internal proofs it futficiently appears,
that the poems publifhed under the name of
Offian, are not of Irifh compofition. The fa-
vourite chimaera, that Ireland is the mother-
country of the Scots, is totally fubverced and
ruined. The fidlions concerning the antiquities
S 4 of

264 A DISSERTATION concerning the

of that country, which were forming for age^,
and growing as they canne down, on the hands
of fucceffiye fenachies and fileas, are found, at
lail, to be the fpurious brood of modern and
ignorant ages. To thofe who know how tena-
cious the Iridi are, of their pretended Iberian
defcent, this alone is proof fuaicient, that poems,
fo fubverfive of their fyftem, could never be
produced by an Hibernian bard. But when we
look to the language, it is fo different fronrj the
Irifh dialed, that it would be as ridiculous ta
think, that Milton's Paradife Loft could be
wrote by a Scottifn peafant, as to fuppofe, that
the poems afcribed to Ofllan were writ in Ire-
land.

The pretenfions of Ireland to Offian proceed
from another quarter. There are handed down,
in that country, traditional poenns, concerning
the Fiona, or the heroes of Fion Alac ComnaU
This Ficiiy fay the Irifh annalifts, was general of
the nnilitia of Ireland, in the reign of Cormac,
in the third century. Where Keating and
O' Flaherty learned, that Ireland had an embodied
militia lb early, is not eafy for me to determine.
Their information certainly did not come from
the Irifh poems, concerning Fion. I have juft now,
in my hands, all that remain, of thofe compo-
2 fitions i

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 265

fitions ; but, unluckily for the antiquities of
Ireland, they appear to be the work of a very
modern period. Every ftanza, nay almoft every
line, affords (Iriking proofs, that they cannot
be three centuries old. Their allufions to the
manners and cuftorns of the fifteenth century, are
fo many, that it is matter of wonder to me, how
any one could dream of their antiquity. They
are entirely writ in that romantic tafte, which
prevailed two ages ago. Giants, enchanted
caftles, dwarfs, palfreys, witches and magicians
form the whole circle of the poet's invention.
The celebrated Fion could fcarcely move from
one hillock to another, without encountering a
giant, or being entangled in the circles of a
magician. Witches, on broomfticks, were con-
tinually hovering round him, like crows j and
he had freed enchanted virgins in every valley
in Ireland. In fliort, Fion, great as he was,
paffed a difagreeable life. Not only had he to
engage all the mifchiefs in his own country,
foreign armies invaded him, afTifted by magi-
cians and witches, and headed by kings, as tall
as the main-maft of a firft rate. It mufl: be
owned, however, that Fion was not inferior to
them in height.

A chos

^66 A DISSERTATION concerning the

A chos air Cromleach, druim-ard,
Chos eile air Crom-ncieal dubh,
Thoga Fion le lan:ih mhoir
An d'uifge o Lubhair na fruth.

With one foot on Cromleach his brow.
The other on Crommal the dark,
Fion took up with his large hand
The water from Lu^ar of the ftreams.

Cromleach and Crommal were two mountains in
the neighbourhood of one another, in Ulfler, and
the river Lubar ran through the intermediate
valley. The property of fuch a monfter as this
Fion^ I fhould never have difputed with any
nation. But the bard himfelf, in the poem, from
which the above quotation is taken, cedes him
to Scotland.

Fion o Albin, fiol nan laoich !
Fion from Albion, race of heroes!

Were it allowable to contradi(5t the authority of
a bard, at this diftance of time, I Ihould have
given as my opinion, that this enormous Fion
was of the race of the Hibernian giants, of Rua-
nus, or fome other celebrated name, rather than

a native

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 26.7

a native of Caledonia, whofe inhabitants, now at
lead, are not remarkable for their ftature. As
for the poetry, 1 leave it to the reader.

If Fion was fo remarkable for his ftature, his
heroes had alfo other extraordinary properties.
In weight all the fans of ftrangers yielded to the
celebrated Ton-iofal j and for hardnefs of fkull,
and, perhaps, for thicknefs too, the valiant
Ofcar ftood unrivalled and alone. Offian himfelf
had many Angular and lefs delicate qualifications,
than playing on the harpj and the brave Cuthul-
lin was of fo diminutive a fize, as to be taken for
a child of two years of age, by the gigantic
Swaran. To illuftrate this fubjed, I fhall here
lay before the reader, the hiftory of fome of the
Irifh poems, concerning Ficn Mac Comnal. A
tranflation of thefe pieces, if well executed,
might afford fatisfadion, in an uncommon way,
to the Public. But this ought to be the work
of a native of Ireland. To draw forth, from
obfcurity, the poems of my own country,
has wafted all the time I had allotted for the
mufesi befides, I am too diffident of my own
abilities, to undertake fuch a work. A gentle-
man in Dublin accufcd me to the Public, of
committing blunders and abfurdities, in tran-
ftating the language of my own country, and
4 that

268 A DISSERTATION concerning the

that before any tranflation of mine appeared *.
How the gentleman came to fee my blunders
before I committed them, is not eafy to deter-
mine; if he did not conclude, that, as a Scotf-
man, and, of courfe defcended of the Milefian
race, I might have committed feme of thofe
overfights, which, perhaps very unjuftly, are
laid to be peculiar to them.

FrOxM the whole tenor of the Irifh poems,
concerning the Fiona^ it ap iears, that Fion Mac
CcOTs^/ flour iihed in the reign of Cormac, which is
placed, by the univerfal confent of the fenachies,
in the third century. They even fix the death

* In Faulkner's Dublin Journal, of the ift December, 1761^
appeared the following Advertifement : two weeks before
my firft publication appeared in London..

Speedily will be publiflied, by a gentleman of this king-
dom, who hath been, for fome time pall, employed in trau-.
Hating and writing hiftorical Notes to

F I N G A L, A Poem,

Originally wrote in the Irifli or Erfe language. In the preface
to which, the tranflator, who is a perfeft mafter of the Iriih
f-nigue, will give an account of the manners and cuftoms of '
the ancient Irilli or Scotch ; and, therefore, inoft humbly in-
treats the public, to wait for his edition, v/hich will appear in
a fnort time, as he will let forth all the blunders and abfur^
dities in the edition now printing in London, and fhew the
ignorance cf the Englilh tranflator, in his knowledge of Irifh
grammar, not underftanding any part of that accidence.

of

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 269

of Fingal in the year zZty yet his fon Offian is
made cotemporary with Sr. Patrick, who
preached the gofpel in Ireland about the middle
of the fifth age. Offian, though, at that time,
he mufl: have been two hundred and fifty years
of age, had a daughter young enough to become
wife to the faint. On account of this family
connexion, Patrick of the PJalms^ for fo the
apollle of Ireland is emphatically called in the
poems, took great delight in the company of
Offian, and in hearing the great actions of his
family. The faint fometimes threw off the
aufteriiy of his profeffion, drunk freely, and
had his foul properly warmed with wine, to
receive with becoming enthufiam, the poems
of his father-in-law. One of the poems begins
with this piece of ufeful information.

Lo don rabh Padric na mhur.
Gun Sailm air uidh, ach a gol,
Ghluais c thigh OJp.an mhic Fkiottt
O fan Icis bu bhinn a ghloir.

The title of this poem is Tcaniach mcr na Fiona.
It appears to have been founded on the fame
ftory v.'lch the battle of Lor a. The circumftances
and cataflrophe in both are much the fame j but

the

t-j'o A DISSERTATION concerning the

the IriJIj OJfian difcovers the age in which he livedji
by an unlucky anachronifm. After defcribing
the total route of Erragon, he very gravely
concludes with this reinarkable anecdote,- that
none of the foe efcaped, but a few, who were
permitted to go on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land,
This circumftance fixes the date of the compofi-
tion of the piece fome ctnturies after the famous
croifadcj for, it is evident, that the poet thought
the time of the croifade fo ancient, that he con-
founds it with the age of Fingal. Erragon, in
the courfe of this poem, is often called^

Riogh Lochlin an do Ihloigh,
King of Denmark of two nations,

which alludes to the union of the kingdoms of
Norway and Denmark, a circumftance which
happened under Margaret de Waldemar, in the
clofe of the fourteenth age. Modern, however,
as this pretended OfTian was, it is certain, he
lived before the Irifli had dreamed of appropri-
ating Fion, or Fingal, to themfelves. He con-
cludes the poem, with this reflexion :

Na fagha fe comhthrom nan n' arm,
Erragon Mac Annir nan lann glas

'San

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 27!

'San n' Albin ni n' abairtair Triath
Agus ghlaoite an n' Fhiona as,

« Had Erragon, fon of Annir of gleaming
fwords, avoided the equal conteft of arms, (fmgle
combat) no chief Ihould have afterwards been
numbered in Albion, and the heroes of Fion
fhould no more be named."

The next poem that falls under our obferva-
tion is Cath-cabhray or, The death of Of car. This
piece is founded on the fame llory which we have
in the firft book of Temora. So little thought
the author of Cath-cabhra of making Ofcar his
countryman, that, in the courfe of two hundred
lines, of which the poems confift, he puts the
following exprelTion thrice in the mouth of the
hero:

Albin an fa d' roina m' arach.

Albion when 1 was horn and bred.

The poem contains almofl: all the incidents in
the firft book of Temora, In one circumftance
the bard differs materially from Oflian. Ofcar,
after he was mortally wounded by Cairbar, was
carried by his people to a neighbouring hill,
which commanded a profpeft of the fea. A fleet
appeared at a diftance, and the hero exclaims
with joy,

Loingeas

tyi A DISSERTATION concerning the

Loingeas mo fliean-athair at' an
'S iad a tiachd le cabhair chugain,
O Albin na n' ioma ftup^gh.

" It is the fleet of nny grandfather, coming with
aid to our field, from Albion of many waves !".
■ The teftimony of this bard is fufficient to
confute the idle fictiojis of Keating and O'Fla-
herty j for, though he is far from being ancient,
it is probable, he flourifhed a full century before
thefe hiftorians. He appears, however, to have
been a much better chriftian than chronologer j
for Fiott, though he is placed two centuries before
St. Patrick, very devoutly recommends the foul
of his grandfon to his Redeemer.

Duan a Gharibh Mac-Siarn is another Iridi poem
in high repute. The grandeur of its images, and
its propriety of fentiment, might have induced
me to give a tranflation of it, had not I fome ex-
pe6tations, which are now over, of feeing it in
the colledion of the Irifh OfTian's poems, pro-
mifed twelve years fince, to the public. The
author defcends fometimes from the region of
the iublime to low and indecent defcription j the
laft of which, the Irifh tranflaror, no doubt,
will choofc to leave in the obfcurity of the ori-
gioaj. In this piece Cuthullin is ufed with very
little ceremony, for he is oft called, the dog of

Tara,

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 2^^

Taray in the county of Meath. This fevere title
of the redoubtable CutbuUin^ the mofl: renowned of
Irifti champions, proceeded from the poet's igno-
rance of etymology. Cu, voice^ or commander,
fignifies alio a dog. The poet chofe the laft, as
the moft noble appellation for his hero.

The fubjed of the poem is the fame with that
of the epic poem of Fingal. Carihh Mac-Starn
is the fame with Offian's Swaran, the fon of
Starno. His fingle combats with, and his vic-
tory over all the heroes of Ireland, excepting
tht celebrated dog of Tara^ i.e. Cuthullin, afford
matter for two hundred lines of tolerable poetry.
CaribFs progrefs in fearch of Cuthullin, and his
intrigue with the gigantic Emir-bragal, that
hero's wife, enables the poet to extend his piece
to four hundred lines. This author, it is true,
makes Cuthullin a native of Ireland j the gigan-
tic Emir-bragal he calls the guiding Jiar of the
women of Ireland, The property of this enor-
mous lady I fhall not difpute with him, or any
other. But, as he fpeaks with great tendernefs
of the daughters of the convent, and throws out
feme hints againft the Englifh nation, it is pro-
bable he lived in too modern a period to bci^
intimately acquainted with the genealogy of Cu-
thullin. '

Vol. II. T Another

1274 A DISSERTATION concerning the

Another Irifli OfTian, for there were many^
as appears from their difference in language and
fentiment, fpeaks very dogmatically of Fio?i Mac
Comnal^ as an Irilhman. Little can be faid for
the judgment of this poet, and lefs for his deli-
cacy of fentiment. The hiftory of one of his
cpifodes may, at once, ftand as a fpecimen of
his want of both. Ireland, in the days of Fioft,
happened to be threatened with an invafion, by
three great potentates, the kings of Lochlin,
Sweden, and France, It is needlefs to infiit
upon the impropriety of a French invafion of
Ireland ; it is fufficient for me to be faithful to
the language of my author. Fioriy upon re-
ceiving intelligence of the intended invafion, fenc
Ca-olr, Oflian, and Ofcar, to watch the bay, in
which, it was apprehended, the enemy was to
land. Ofcar was the worll choice of a fcout that
could be made, for, brave as he was, he had
the bad property of falling very often afleep on
his poll, nor was it poITible to awake him, with-
out cutting off one of his fingers, or dafhing a
large (lone againfl: his head. When the enemy
appeared, Ofcar, very unfortunately, was afleep.
Offian and Ca-olt confulted about the method of
wakening him, and they, at lafl, fixed on the
ftone, as the lefs dangerous expedient.

Cua

;t» O E M S of O S S I A N. 275

Gun thog Caoilte a chlach, nach gan,
Agus a n' aighai* chiean gun bhuailj
Tri mil an tulloch gun chri', &c,

" Ca-olt took up a heavy (lone, and ftruck ic
againft the hero's head. The hill fliook for three
miles, as the ftone rebounded and rolled away."
Ofcar rofe in wrath, and his father gravely de-
fired him to fpcnd his rage on his enemies,
which he did to fo good purpofe, that he fingly
routed a whole wing of their army. The con-
federate kings advanced, notwithftanding, till
they came to a narrow pafs, poflefled by the
celebrated Ton-iofal. This name is very figni-
ficant of the fingular property of the hero who
bore it. Ton-iofal, though brave, was fo heavy
and unwieldy, that when he fat down, it took
the whole force of an hundred men to fet him
upright on his feet again. Luckily for the pre-
fervation of Ireland, the hero happened to be
{landing when the enemy appeared, and he gave
lb good an account of them, that Fion, upon
his arrival, found little to do, but to divide the
fpoil among his foldicrs.

All thcfc extraordinary heroes, Fion, Offian,
Ofcar and Ca-olt, fays the poet, were

T 2 Siol

i-jG A DISSERTATION concerning the

Siol Erin na gorm lann.
I^he Jons of ErIxV of blue fieeh

Neither fhall I much difpiite the matter with
him : He has my confent alfo to appropriate to
Ireland the celebrated Ton-iofal. I fhall only
Uji that they are different perfons from thofe
of the fame name, in the Scotch poems i and
that, though the ilupendous valour of the firft
is fo remarkable, they have not been equally
lucky with the latter, in their poet. It is fome-
what extraordinary, that Fion, who lived fome
ages before St. Patrick, fwears like a very good
chriltian :

Air an Dia do chum gach cafe.
By Gody "joho fhaped every cafe.

It is worthy of being remarked, that, in the line
quoted, Offian, who lived in St. Patrick's days,
feems to have underftood fomething of the Eng-
li(li, a language not then fubfifting. A perfon,
more fanguine for the honour of his country
than I am, might argue, from this circumftance,
that this pretendedly Irifii OfTian was a native of
Scotland; for my countrymen are univerfally
allowed to have an exciufive right to the fecond-
fight.

From

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 277

From the inftances given, the reader may
form a complete idea of the Irifh compofitions
concerning the Fiona. The greateft part of then>
make the heroes of FioHt

Siol Albtn a n'nioma caoile,
*The race of Albion of many firths.

The reft make them natives of Ireland. But,
the truth is, that their authority is of little con-
fequence on either fide. From the inftances I
have given, they appear to have been the work
of a very modern period. The pious ejacula-
tions they contain, their allufions to the man-
ners of the times, fix them to the fifteenth cen-
tury. Had even the authors of thefe pieces
avoided all allufions to their own times, it is im-
poflible that the poems could pafs for ancient, in
the eyes of any perfon tolerably converfant with
the Irifti tongue. The idiom is fo corrupted and
fo many words borrowed from the Englifti, that
the language muft have made confiderable pro-
grefs in Ireland before the poems were written.

It remains now to ftiew, how the Irifti bards be-
gun to appropriate the Scottifti Ofiian and his he-
roes to their own country. After the Englifti con-
queft, many of the natives of Ireland, averfe to a
foreign yoke, either adtually were in a ftate of
hoftility with the conquerors, or, at leaft, paid
T 3 little

278 A DISSERTATION concerning the

lirtle regard to their government. The Scots, ia
thofe ages, were often in open war, and never in
cordial friendfhip with the Englifh. The fimi-
larity of manners and language, the traditions
concerning their common origin, and above all,
their having to do with the fame enemy, created
a free and friendly intercourfe between the Scot-
tifh and Infh nations. As the cuftom of retain-
ing bards and fenachies was common to both j
lb each, no doubt, had formed a fyftem of hif-
torv, it matters not how much foever fabulous,
concerning their refpediye origin. It was the
natural policy of the times, to reconcile the tra-
ditions of both nations together, apd, ifpoffiblc,
to reduce them from the fame original (lock.

The Saxon manners and language had, at
that time, made great progrefs in the fouth of
Scotland, The ancient language, and the tradi-
tional hiftory of the nation, became confined en-
tirely to the inhabitants of the Highlands, then
fallen, from feveral concurring circumftances,
into the laft degree of ignorance and barbarifm.
The Irifh, wlio, for fome ages before the con-
queft, had poflefled a competent fliare of that
Icind of learning, which then prevailed in Europe,
found it no difficult matter to impofe their own
fiftions on the ignorant Highland fenachies. By
flattering the vanity of the Highlanders, with

thei?^

P O E M S of O S S I A N. 279

their long lift of Heremonian kings and heroes,
they, without contradi6lion, aflTumed to them-
felves the character of being the motlicr-nation
of the Scots of Britain. At this tinne, certainly,
was eftablifhed that Hibernian fyftem of the ori-
ginal of the Scots, which afterwards, for want
of any other, was univerfally received. The
Scots of the low-country, who, by lofing the
language of their anceftors, loft, together with
it, their national traditions, received, implicitly,
the hiftory of their country, from Irifti refugees,
or from Highland fenachies, perfuaded over into
the Hibernian fyftem.

These circumftances are far from being;
ideal. We have remaining many particular tra-
ditions, which bear teftimony to a fa6l, of itfelf
abundantly probable. What makes the matter
inconteftible is, that the ancient traditional ac-
counts of the genuine origin of the Scots, have
been handed down without interruption. Tho*
a few ignorant fenachies might be perfuaded ouc
of their own opinion, by the fmoothnefs of an
Irilli tale, it was impoffible to eradicate, from
among the bulk of the people, their own national
traditions. Thefe traditions afterwards fo much
prevailed, that the Highlanders continue totally
vnacquainted with the pretended Hibernian ex-
^r^<fl of the Scots nation. Ignorant chronicle
T 4 writers^

28o A DISSERTATION, Sec.

writers, llrangers to the ancient language of
their country, preferved only from falling to the
ground, lb improbable a ftory.

Thij fubjed, perhaps, is purfued further than
it defervesi but a difcuflion of the pretenfions
of Ireland, was become in fome meafure necef-
fary. Ifthelrifi) poems, concerning the Fiona»
fhould appear ridiculous, it is but juftice to ob-
ferve, that they are fcarcely more fo than the
poems of other nations, at that period. On
other fubjefls, the bards of Ireland have dif-
played a genius for poetry. It was, alone, in
matters of antiquity, that they were monftrous
in their fables. Their love fonnets, and their
elegies on the death of perfons worthy or re-
nowned, abound with fimplicity, and a wild
harmony of numbers. They become more than
an atonement for their errors, in every other
fpecies of poetry. But the beauty of thefe fpecies,
depends fo much on a certain curiofa felicitas of
exprelTion in the original, that they mufl: appear
much to difadvantage in another language.

A CRITICAL

PISSERTATION

ON THE

POEMS OF OSSIAN,

SON OF FINGAL.

By H U G H B L A I R, D. D.

One of the Minifters of the High Church, and Profeflbr of

Rhetorick and Belles -Lettres, in the Univerfity of

Edinburgh.

A CRITICAL

DISSERTATION

ON THE

POEMS OF OSSIAN,

THE

SON OF FIN GAL,

AMONG the monuments remaining of the
ancient ftate of nations, few are more
valuable than their poems or fongs. Hiftory,
when it treats of remote and dark ages, is feldom
very inftrudive. The beginnings of fociety, in
every country, are involved in fabulous confu-
fion j and though they were not, they would
furnifh few events worth recording. But, in
every period of fociety, human manners are a
curious fpedacle; and the moft natural pictures
of ancient manners are exhibited in the ancient
poems of nations. Thefe prefent to us, what is
much more valuable than the hiftory of fuch
tranfadions as a rude age can afford, The hiftory

284 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

of -human imagination and paflion. They make
us acquainted with the notions and feelings of
our fellow-creatures in the moft artlefs ages j
difcovering what objeds they admired, and what
pleafures they purfued, before thofe refinements
of fociety had taken place, which enlarge in-
deed, and diverfify the tranfadions, but difguife
the manners of mankind.

Besides this merit, which ancient poems
have with philofophical obfervers of human na-
ture, they have another with perfons of tafte.
They promife fome of the higheft beauties of
poetical writing. Irregular and unpolilhed we
iTiay exped the produftions of uncultivated ages
to be i but abounding, at the fame time, with
that enthufiafm, that vehemence and fire, which
are the foul of poetry. For many circumftances
of thofe times which we call barbarous, are fa-
vourable to the poetical fpirit. That ftate, in
which human nature fhoots wild and free,
though unfit for other improvements, certainly
encourages the high exertions of fancy and
padion.

In the infancy of focieties, men live fcattered
and difperfed, in the midft of folitary rural
fcenes, where the beauties of nature are their
chief entertainment. They meet with many
objeds, to them new and ftrange j their wonder

and

GN THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 285

and furprize are frequently excited j and by the
fudden changes of fortune occurring in their
iinfettled ftate of life, their pafTions are raifed
to the utmoft, their paflions have nothing to
reftrain them : their imagination has nothing
to check it. They difplay themfelves to one
another without difguife: and converfe and aft
in the uncovered fimplicity of nature. As their
feelings are ftrong, fo their language, of itfelf,
aflumes a poetical turn. Prone to exaggerate,
they defcribe every thing in the ftrongeft co-
lours J which of courfe renders their fpeech pic-
turefque and figurative. Figurative language
owes its rife chiefly to two caufesj to the want
of proper names for objects, and to the influ-
ence of imagination and paflion over the form
of exprefllon. Both thefe caufes concur in the
infancy of fociety. Figures are commonly con-
fidered as artificial modes of fpeech, devifed by
orators and poets, after the world had advanced
to a refined ftate. The contrary of this is the
truth. Men never have ufed fo many figures
of ftyle, as in thofe rude ages, when, befides
the power of a warm imagination to fugged
lively images, the want of proper and precife
terms for the ideas they would exprefs, obliged
them to have recourfe to circumlocution, meta-
phor, comparifon, and all thofe fubftituted forms
of expreflion, which give a poetical air to lan-
4 guage.

286 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

guage. An American chief, at this day, ha-
rangues at the head of his tribe, in a more bold
metaphorical flyle, than a modern European
would adventure to ufe in an Epic poem.

In the progrefs of fociety, the genius and
manners of men undergo a change more favour-
able to accuracy than to fprightlinefs and fubli-
mity. As the world advances, the underftand-
ing gains ground upon the imagination ; the
underllanding is more exercifed ; the imagina-
tion, lefs. Fewer objects occur that are new or
furprizing. Men apply themfelves to trace the
caufes of things i they corredl and refine one
another i they fubdue or difguife their paflions;
they form their exterior manners upon one uni-
form ftandard of politenefs and civility. Hu-
man nature is pruned according to method and
rule. Language advances from fterility to copi-
oufnefs, and at the fame time, from fervour and
enthufiafm, to corredlnefs and precifion. Style
becomes more chafte ; but lefs animated. The
progrefs of the world in this refpedt refembles
the progrefs of age in man. The powers of ima-
gination are mod vigorous and predominant in
youth i thofe of the underftanding ripen more
flowly, and often attain not to their maturity,
till the imagination begin to flag. Hence, poe-
try, which is the child of imagination, is fre-
quently

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 287

quently mod glowing and animated in the firft
ages of fociety. As the ideas of our youth are
remembered with a peculiar pleafure on account
of their iivelinefs and vivacity i fo the moft an-
cient poems have often proved the greateft fa-
vourites of nations.

Poetry has been faid to be more ancient than
profe : and however paradoxical fuch an afler-
tion may feem, yet, in a qualified fenfe, it is
true. Men certainly never converfed with one
another in regular numbers ; but even their ordi-
nary language would, in antient times, for the
reafons before afligned, approach to a poetical
llylej and the firft compofitions tranfmitted to
pofterity, beyond doubt, were, in a literal fenfe,
poems J that is, compofitions in which imagi-
nation had the chief hand, formed into fome
kind of numbers, and pronounced with a mufi-
cal modulation or tone, Mufic or fong has
been found coseval with fociety among the moft
barbarous nations. The only fubjecls which
could prompt men, in their firft rude ftate, to
litter their thoughts in compofitions of aiay
length, were fuch as naturally afl"umed the tone
of poetry J praifes of their gods, or of their an-
ceftors i commemorations of their own warlike
exploits ', or lamentations over their misfortunes.
7. And

288 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

And before writing was invented, no other com-
pofitions, except fongs or poems, could take
fuch hold of the imagination and memory, as to
be preferved by oral tradition, and handed down
from one race to another.

Hence we rnay expe6t to find poems among
the antiquities of all nations. It is probable too,
that an extenfive fearch would difcover a certain
degree of refemblance among all the mod ancient
poetical produdlions, from whatever country
they have proceeded. In a fimilar (late of rhan-
ners, fimilar objefts and palTions operating upon
the imaginations of men, will (lamp their pro-
ductions with the fame general character. Some
diverfity will, no doubt, be occafioned by cli-
mate and genius. But mankind never bear fuch
refembling features, as they do in the begin-
nings of fociety. Its fubfequent revolutions give
rife to the principal diftindions among nations j
and divert, into channels widely feparated, that
current of human genius and manners, which
defcends originally from one fpring. What we
have been long accuftomed to call the oriental
vein of poetry, becaufe fome of the earlieft poe-
tical productions have come to us from the Eafl:,
is probably no more oriental than occidentalj it
is charaCteriftical of an age rather than a coun-
try;

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 2S^

try J and belongs, in fome meafure, to all na-
tions at a certain period. Of this the works of
Oflian feem to furnifli a remarkable proof.

Our prefent fubjedl leads us to invefligate the
ancient poetical remains, not fo much of the
eafl:, or of the Greeks and Romans, as of tiie
northern nations i in order to difcover whether
the Gothic poetry has any refemblance to the
Celtic or Galic, which we are about to confider*
Though the Goths, under which name we ufu-
ally comprehend all the Scandinavian tribes,
were a people altogether fierce and martial, and
noted, to a proverb, for their ignorance of the
liberal arts, yet they too, from the earlieft times,
had their poets and their fongs. Their poets
were diflinguifhed by the title of ScalderSj and
their fongs were termed Vyfes*» Saxo Gramma-

ticus,

* Olaus Wormius, in the appendix to his Treatife de Lite^
ratura Runica, has given a particular account of the Gothic
poetry, commonly called Runic, from Runes, which fignifies
the Gothic letters. He informs us that there were no fewer
than 136 different kinds of meafure or verfe ufed in their
y\Jes; and though we are accuftomed to call rhyme a Gothic
invention, he fays e?:prefsly, that among all thefe meafurcs,
rhyme, or correfpondence of final fyllables, was never em-
ployed. He analyfes the ftrufture of one of thefe kinds of
verfe, that in which the poem of Lodbrog, afterwards quoted,
is written ; which exhibits a very Angular fpecies of harmony,
if it can be allowed that name, depending neither upon r]i\-me

Vol. H. U nor

290 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

ticus, a Danifli Hiftorian of confiderable note
who flourifhed in the thirteenth century, in-
forms us that very many of thefe fongs, contain-

nor upon metrical feet, or quantity of fyllables, but chiefly
upon the number of the fylhibles, and the difpofition of the
letters. In every ftanza was an equal rumber of lines : in
every line fix fyllables. In each diflich, it was requifite that^
three words fhould begin with the fame letter ; two of the
correfponding words placed in the firft line of the diltich,
the third, in the fecond line. In each line were alfo required
two fyllables, but never the final ones, formed either of the
fame confonants, or fame vowels. As an example of this
meafure, Olaus gives us thefe two Latin lines conftru*5ted
cxa<5tly according to the above rules of Runic verfe ;

Chriftus caput noftrum
Coronet te bonis

The initial letters of Chriftus, Caput, and Coronet, make the
three correfponding letters of the diltich. In the firft line, the
firft fyllables of Chriftus and of noftrum ; in the fecond line,
the on in coronet and in bonis make the requifite correfpond-
cnce of fyllables. Frequent inverfions and tranfpofitions
were permitted in this poetry ; which would naturally follow
from fuch laborious attention to the collocation of words.

The curious on this fubjeift may confult likewife Dr.
Hickb''s Thefaurus Linguarum Septentrionidium ; particu-
larly the 23d chapter of his Grammatica Anglo-Saxonica &
Msfo-Gothica ; where they will find a full account of the
ftrutfture of the Anglo Saxon verfe, which nearly refembled
die Gothic. They will find alfo fome fpccimcns both of
Gothic and Saxon poetry. An extradt, which Dr. Hicks has
given from the work of one the Daniih Scalders, entitled,
Hervarer Saga, containing an evocation from the dead, may
be found in the 6th volume of Mifceliany Poems, publilhcd
bj- Mr. Dry den.

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 291

ing the ancient traditionary ftories of the coun-
try, were found engraven upon rocks in the old
Runic character J feveral of which he has tranf-
lated into Latin, and inferted into his Hiflory.
But his verfions are plainly fo paraphraftical, and
forced into fuch an innitation of the ftyle and the
meafures of the Roman poets, that one can form
no judgment from them of the native fpirit of the
original. A more curious monument of the
true Gothic poetry is preferved by Olaus Wor-
mius in his book de Literatura Runica. It is an
Epicedium, or funeral fong, compofed by Reg-
ner Lodbrog; and tranflated by Olaus, word for
word from the original. This Lodbrog was a
king of Denmark, who lived in the eighth cen-
tury, famous for his wars and viftories ; and at
the fame time an eminent Scalder or poet. It
was his misfortune to fall at lafl: into the hands of
one of his enemies, by whom he was thrown in-
to prifon, and condemned to be deftroyed by fer-
pents. In this fituation he folaced himfclf with
rehearfing all the exploits of his life. The poem
is divided into tv/enty nine fcanzas, of ten lines
each J and every ftanza begins with thefe words,
Fugnavimus Enfibus, We have fought with our
fwords. Olaus's verfion is in many places fo ob-
fcure as to be hardly intelligible. I have fub-
joined the whole below, exaflly as he has pub-
U 2 liflicd

292 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

lllhed iti and fhall tranflate as much as may give
the Englifh reader an idea of the fpirit and
(train of this kind of poetry *.

« Wi

*i.

Pugnavimus Enfibus
Haud poft longum tempus
Cum in Gotlandia acceflimus
Ad ferpentis immenfi necein
Tunc impetravimus Thoram
Ex hoc vocarunt me viruni
Quod ferpentem transfodi
Hirfutam braccam ob illam cedem
Cufpide i6lum intuli in colubrum
Ferro lucidoruni ftupendiorum.

2.

Multum juvenis fui quando acquiflvimus

Orientem verfus in Oreonico freto

Vulnerum amnes avidae ferae

Et flavipedi avi

Accepimus ibidem fonuerunt

Ad fublimes galeas

Dura ferra magnam efcam

Omnis erat oceanus vulnus

Vadavit corvus in fanguine Caeforum.

3-
Alte tullmus tunc lanceas
Quando viginti annos numeravimus
Et celebrem laudem comparavimus paflim
Vicimus o(5lo barones
In oriente ante Dimini portum
A.quilas impetravimus tunc fufficientem
Hofpitii fumptum in ilia ftrage

Sudor

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 293

" We have fought with our fwords. I was
" young, when, towards the eaft, in the bay of
'f Oreon, we made torrents of blood flow, to
«' gorge the ravenous bead of prey, and the

" yellow-

Sudor decidit in vulnerum
Oceano perdidit exercitus aetatem.

4.
Pugnae fa£ta copia
Cum Helfingianos poflulavimus
Ad aulam Odini

Naves direximus in oftium Viftulse
Mucro potuit turn mordere
Omnis erat vulnus unda
Terra rubefadta Calido
Frendebat gladius in loricas
Gladius findebat Clypeos.

5-
Memini neminem tunc fugifle
Priufquam in navibus
Heraudus in bello caderet
Non findit navibus

Alius baro praeftantior '

Mare ad portum
In navibus longis poft ilium
Sic attulit princeps pafTim
Alacre in bellum cor.

6.
Exercitus abjecit clypeos
Cum hafta volavit
Ardua ad virorum pedora
Momordit Scarforum cautes
Gladius in pugna
*■ U 3 Sanguineus

294 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" yellow-footed bird. There refounded the hard
** fteel upon the lofty helmets of men. The
" whole ocean was one wound. The crow
** waded in the blood of the (lain. When we

" had

Sanguineus erat Clypeus
Antequam Rafno rex caderct
Fluxit ex virorum capitibus
Calidus in loricas fudor.

7
Habere potuerunt turn corvi
Ante Indirorum infulas
Sufficientem praedam diiajiiandam
Acquifivimus feris carnivoris
Plenum prandium unico adu
Difficile erat unius facere mentionem
Oriente fole
Spicula vidi pungcre
Propulerunt arcus ex fc ferra.

8.
Altum mugierunt enfes
Antequam in Laneo campo
Eiflinus rex cecidit
Proceffimus auro ditati
Ad terram proftratorum dimicandum
Gladius fecuit Clypeorum
Pifturas in galearum conventu
Cervicum muftum ex vulneribus
Diffufum per cerebrum fiflum,

9-
Tenuimus Clypeos in fanguine
Cum haftam unximus
Ante Boring holmum

Telorunri

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 295

" had numbered twenty years, we lifted our
*' fpears on high, and every where fpread our
" renown. Eight barons we overcame in the
*' eaft, before the port of Diminumi and plen-

" tifully

Telorum nubes difrumpunt clypeutn
Extrufit arcus ex fe metallum
Volnir cecldit in confli£lu
Non erat illo rex major
Caefi difperfi late per littora
Ferse ampleitebantur efcam.

10.
Pugna manifefte crefcebat
Antequam Freyr rex caderet
In Flandrorum terra
Caspit caeruleus ad incidendum
Sanguine illitus in auream
Loricam in pugna
Durus armorum macro olim
Virgo deploravit matutinam lanienam
Multa prseda dabatur feris.

II.
Centies centenos vidi jacere
In navibus

Ubi ^nglanes vocatur
Navigavimus ad pugnam
Per fex dies antequam exercitus caderet
Tranfegimus mucronum miflam
•In exortu folis

CoaiStus eft pro noftris gladiis
Valdiofur in bello occumbere.

XJ 4 Kuit

2g6 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" tifuUy we feafted the eagle in that flaughtcr,
" The warm ftream of wounds ran into the
" ocean. The army fell before us. When we

" ftcered

12.
Ruit pluvia fanguinis de gladiis
Praeceps in Bardafyrde
Pallidum corpus pro accipitribus
Murmuravit arcus ubi mucro
Acriter mordebat Loricas
In conflidu
Odini Pileus Galea
Cucurrit arcus ad vulnus
Venenate acutus confperfus fudore fanguineo,

13-

Tenuimus magica fcuta
Alte in pugnse ludo
Ante Hiadningum finum
Videre hcuit turn vires
Qui gladiis lacerarunt Clypeos
In gladiatorio murmure
Galeae attritae virorum
Erat ficut fplendidam virginem
In ledlo juxta fe coUocare.

14.

Dura venit tempeftas Clypels

Cadaver cecidit in terrani

In Nortumbria

Erat circa matutinum tcmpus

Hominibus necelFum erat fugere

Ex praelio ubi acute

CafHdis campos mordebant gladii

Erat hoc veluti Juvenem viduam

In primaria fede ofcuJari.

Her.

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 297

" fteered our (hips into the mouth of the Vif-

" tula, we fent the Helfingians to the Hall of

" Odin. Then did the fword bite. The wa-

*' ters
IS-

Herthiofe evafit fortunatus
In Auftralibus Orcadibus ipfe
Vi£loriae in noftris hominibus
Cogebatur in armorum nimbo
Rogvaldus occumbere
Ifte venit fummus fuper acclpitres
Ludlus in gladiorum ludo
Strenue jadabat concufTor
Galeae fanguinis teli.

16.
Quilibet jacebat tranfverfim fupra alium
Guadebat pugna laetus
Accipiter ob gladiorum ludum
Non fecit aquilam aut aprutn
Qui Irlandiam gubernavit
Conventus fiebat ferri & Clypei
Marftanus rex jejunis
Fiebat in vedrae finu
Praeda data corvis,

17-
Bellatorem multum vidi cadere
Mante ante machaeram
Virum in mucronum diflldio
Filio meo incidit mature
Gladius juxta cor
Egillus fecit Agnerum fpoliatum
- Impertertitum virum vita
Sonuit lancea prope Hamdi
Grifeam loricam fplendebant vexilla,

Ver,

298 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" ters were all one wound. The earth was dyed
" red with the warm ftream. The fword rung
«f upon the coats of mail, and clove the buck-

« lers

18.
Verborum tenaces vidi diflccarc
Haut minutim pro lupis
Endili maris erifibus
Erat per Hebdomadae fpacium
Qitafi mulieres vinum apportarent
Rubefaflae erant naves
Valde in ftrepitu armorum
ScifTa erat lorica
In Scioldungorum praelio.

19.
Pulchricomum vidi crepufculafcere
Virginis amatorcm circa matutinun^
Et confabulationis amicum viduarum
Erat ficut calidum balneum
Vine! vafis nympha portaret
Nos in Ilae freto
Antiquam Orn rex caderet
Sanguineum Clypeum vidi ruptum
Hoc invertit virorum vitam.

20.
Egimus gladiorum ad caedetn
Ludum in Lindis infula
Cum regibus tribus
Pauci potucrunt inde Iretari
Cecidit multus in ritSlum ferarum
Accipiter dilaniavit carncm cum lupo
Ut fatur inde difcedcret
Hybernorum fanguis in oceanum
Copiofe decidit per madtationis tempus,

Altr

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 599

f' lers in twain. None fled on that day, till
f among his ihips Heraudus fell. Than him
f' no braver baron cleaves the fea with fhipsj
*' a chearful heart did he ever bring to the com-

« bat.

21.
Alte gladius mordcbat Clypeos
Tunc cum aurei coloris
Hafta fricabat loricas
Videre licuit in Onlugs infula
Per fecula multum poft
Ibi fuit ad gladiorum ludos
Reges proceflerunt
Rubicundum erat circa infulam
Ar volans Draco vulnerum.

22.
Quid eft viro forti morte certius
Etfi ipfe in armorum nimbo
Adyerfus collocatus fit
Saepe deplorat aetatem
Qui nunquam premitur
Malum ferunt timidum incitare
Aquilam ad giadiorum ludum
Meticulofus venit nufpiam
Cordi fuo ufui.

Hoc numero aequum ut procedat
In contadlu giadiorum
Juvenis unus contra alterum
!Non retrocedat vir a viro.
Hoc fuit viri fortis nobilitas diu
3emper debet amoris amicus virginiim
fi^^30i. Qife in fremitu armorum.

Hoc

300 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

«' bat. Then the hoft threw away their fhields,
" when the uplifted fpear flew at the breads of
" heroes. The fword bit the Scarfian rocks j

" bloody

24.
Hoc videtur mihi re vera
Quod fata fequimur
Rarus tranfgreditur fata Parcarum
Non deftinavi Ellae
De vitae exitu meae

Cum ego fanguinem femimortuus tegercm
Et naves in aquas protrufi
Paflim impetravimus turn feris^
Efcam in Scotiae fmubus.

25'
Hoc ridere me facit femper
Quod Balderi patris fcamna
Parata fcio in aula
Bibemus cerevifiam brevi
Ex concavis crateribus craniorum
Non gemit vir fortis contra mortem
Magnifici in Odini domibus
Non venio defperabundis
Verbis ad Odini aulam,

26.
Hie vellent nunc omnes
Filii Aflaugae gladiis
Amarum bcllum excitare
Si exade fcirent
Calamitates noftras
Quern non pauci angues
Venenati me difcerpunt
Matrem accepi meis
Filiis ita ut corda valeant.

Valde

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 301

" bloody was the fliield in battle, until Rafno
«* the king was flain. From the heads of war-
" riors the warm fweat ftreamed down their

27.

Valde inclinatur ad haereditatem
Crudele flat nocumentum a vipera
Anguis inhabitat aulam cordis
Speramus alterius ad Othini
Virgam in Ellae fanguine
Filiis meis livefcet
Sua ira rubefcet
Non acres juvenes
Seffionem tranquillam facient.

28.
Habeo quinquagies
Praelia fub fignis fa£la
Ex belli invitatione Sc femel
Minime putavi hominum
Quod me futurus eflet
Juvenis didici mucronem rubefacerc
Alius rex praeftantior
Nos Afae invitabunt
Non eft lugenda mors.

29.
Pert animus finire '

Invitant me Dyfe
Quas ex Othini aula
Othinus mihi mifit
Laetus cerevifiam cum Afis
In fumma fede bibam
Vitae elapfae funt horae
Ridens moriar.

" armour.

302 A GRiTiCAL DISSERTATION

" armour. The cfows around the Indirian
" iflands had an ample prey. It were difficult
*f to fingle out one among fo many deaths. At
" the rifing of the fun 1 beheld the fpears pier-
<« cing the bodies of foes, and the bows throwing
" forth their fteel-pointed arrows. Loud roared
*' the fwords in the plains of Lano. — The vir-
*' gin long bewailed the Daughter of that morn-
" ing." — In this ftrain the poet continues to
defcribe feveral other military exploits. The
images are not much varied: the noife of arms,
the ftreaming of blood, and the fealting the
birds of prey, often recurring. He mentions
the death of two of his fons in battle; and the
lamentation he defcribes as made for one of
them is very fingular. A Grecian or Roman
poet would have introduced the virgins or
nymphs of the wood, bewailing the untimely
fall of a young hero. But, fays our Gothic
poet, " When Rogvaldus was flain, for him
" mourned all the hawks of heaven," as lament-
ing a benefador who had fo liberally fupplied
them with prey; " for boldly," as he adds,
" in the ftrife of fwords, did the breaker of hel-
** mets throw the fpear of blood."

The poem concludes with fentiments of the
bigheft bravery and contempt of death. " What
'* is more certain to the brave m.an than death,

" though

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN". 36J

*« though amidfl: the ftorm of fwords, he (lands
" always ready to oppofe it? He only regrets
" this life who hath never known diftrefs. The
" timorous man allures the devouring eagle to
" the field of battle. The coward, wherever he
" comes, is ufelefs to himfelf. This I efleem,
" honourable, that the youth fhould advance to
'* the combat fairly matched one againfl ano-
" ther J nor man retreat from man. Long was
" this the warrior's higheft glory. He wlio
" afpires to the love of virgins, ought always to
" be foremoft in the roar of arms. It appears
" to me of truth, that wq are led by the Fates.
" Seldom can any overcome the appointment
<« of deftiny. Little did I forefee that Ella* was
*' to have my life in his hands, in that day when
" fainting I concealed my blood, and puflied
*' forth my Ihips into the waves; after we had
^^ fpread a repaft for the beafts of prey through-
" out the Scottilh bays. But this makes me
*' always rejoice that in the halls of our father
" Balder [or Odin] 1 know there are fears pre-
" pared, where, in a fliort time, we fliall be
" drinking ale out of the hollow Ikulls of our
<« enemies. In the houfe of the mighty Odin,
" no brave man laments death. I come not

* Tills was the na:ne of his enemy vho had conacruncd
him to death.

*' with

304 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

<« with the voice of defpair to Odin's hall. Hov7
*' eagerly would all the fons of AQauga now
*' rufh to war, did they know the diftrefs of
<« their father, whom a multitude of venomous
«' ferpents tear ! I have given to my children a
" mother who hath filled their hearts with va-
*f lour. I am faft approaching to my end. A
*' cruel death awaits me from the viper's bite.
" A fnake dwells in the midft of my heart. I
*' hope that the fword of fome of my fons fhall
" yet be ftained with the blood of Ella. The
" valiant youths will wax red with anger, and
" will not fit in peace. Fifty and one times have
«* I reared the flandard in battle. In my youth
*' I learned to dye the fword in blood ; my hope
*' was then, that no king among men would be
** more renowned than me. The goddefles of
** death will now foon call mej I muft not
" mourn my death. Now I end my fong. The
*' goddefles invite me awayj they whom Odin has
" fent to me from his hall. I will fit upon a
" lofty feat, and drink ale joyfully with the
*' goddefles of death. The hours of my life are
*' run out. I will fmile when I die."

This is fuch poetry as we might expeft from

a barbarous nation. It breathes a moft ferocious

fpirit. It is wild, harlh, and irregular j but at

the fame time animated and ftrongj the ftyle,

7 ^^

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 305

in the original, full of inverfions, and, as we
learn from fome of Olaus's notes, highly meta-
phorical and figured.

But when we open the works of Ofllan, a
very different fcene prefents itfelf. There we
find the fire and the enthufiafm of the moft early
times, combined with an amazing degree of re-
gularity and art. We find tendernefs, and even
delicacy of fentiment, greatly predominant over
fiercenefs and barbarity. Our hearts are melted
with the fofteft feelings, and at the fame time
elevated with the higheft ideas of magnanimity,
generofity, and true heroifm. When we turn
from the poetry of Lodbrog to that of OiTian, it
is like pafling from a favage defart, into a fertile
and cultivated country. How is this to be ac-
counted for? Or by what means to be reconciled
with the remote antiquity attributed to thefe
poems: This is a curious point j and requires
Co be illuftrated.

That the ancients Scots were of Celtic origi-
nal, is paft all doubt. Their conformity with
the Celtic nations in language, manners, and re-
ligion, proves it to a full demonftration. The
Celt£E, a great and mighty people, altogether
diftindt from the Goths and Teutones, once ex-
tended their dominion over all the weft of Eu-
rope ; but feem to have had their moft full and

Vol. II. X coQipletc

3o6 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

complete eftablifhment in Gaul. Wherever the
CekcC or Gauls are mentioned by ancient writers,
we feldom fail to hear of their Druids and their
Bards J the inftitution of which two orders, was
the capital diftindtion of their manners and
policy. The Druids were their philofophers
and prieftsi the Bards, their poets and recorders
of heroic actions: And both thefe orders of
men feem to have fubfifted among them, as
chief members of the ftate, from time immemo-
rial *. We mufl not therefore imagine the
Celts to have been altogether a grofs and rude
nation. They poirelTed from very remote ages
a formed fyfcem of difcipline and manners,
which appears to have had a deep and lafting
influence. Ammianus Marcellinus gives them
this exprefs teftimony, that there flourifhed
among them the fludy of the mod laudable arts;
introduced by the Bards, whofe ofiice it was to
fino- in heroic verfe, the gallant adions of illuf-
trious men; and by the Druids, who lived
together in colleges or focieties, after the Pytha-

• T4oc (^v7\X Tfcv Ti^wfAevfc* ^iK^e^wTiy; In, Bagooi ts xaJ saT£i<,
k1 Atu»a'at. B:z§J'o» JM.SV CfAvma.) >^ s-cir.Toct, Strabo. lib. iv.

E'i3-» "^a-p' dvro7; Kal voir.ra.l (/.iKuVf tic Ba^oa? ovo[A.a,^ti(7itt stc» at

Diodor. Sicul. 1. 5.

ivatiiak fuT* uhi iwaua? ^S7'>^T^. Pofidonius ap. Atlienxum, !. 6.

goreaa

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 307

gorean manner, and philofophizing upon the
highell ilibjecls, aflerted the immortality of the
human foul *. Though Julius Csfar, in his ac-
count of Gaul, does not exprefsly mention the
Bards, yet it is plain that under the title of
Druids, he comprehends that whole college or
orders of which the bards, who, it is probable,
were the difciples of the Druids, undoubtedly-
made a part. It deferves remark, that, accord-
ing to his account, the Druidical inftitution firft
took rife in Britain, and pafled from thence into
Gaul ; fo that they who afpired to be thorough
mafters of that learning were wont to refort to
Britain. He adds too, that fuch as were to be
initiated among the Druids, were obliged to
commit to their memory a great number of
verfes, infomuch that fome employed twenty
years in this courfe of education j and that they
did not think it lawful to record thefe poems in

* Per hrec loca (fpeaking of Gaul) hominibus paulatim
e^iciiltis n>iguere Jludia laudahilium doctrinarum ; inchoata per
Bardos & Euhages & Druidas. Et Bardi quidem fortia viro-
rumillullrium facta heroicis compofita verfibus cum dulcibus
lyras modulis cantitamnt. Euhages vero fcrutantes ferlum
&. fublimia nature pandere conabantur. Inter hos, Druidas
ingeniis celfiores, ut audtoritas Pytliagorx decrevit, fodali-
tiis adllriifti confortiis, qnxfticnibus altarum occultarumque
re'rum eredi funt; & defpectantes humana proj-iunttarunt
animas immortaks. A mm. Marcclliiius, I. 15. cap. 9.

X 2 writing.

3o8 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

writing, but facredly handed them down by
tradition from race to race *.

So ftrong was the attachment of the Celtic
Tiations to their poetry and their bards, that
amidft all the changes of their government and
manners, even long after the order of the Druids
was extin6l, and the national religion altered,
the bards continued to fiourifhj not as a fet of
ftrolling fongfters, like the Greek 'Aoiooi orRhap-
fodifts, in Homer's time, but as an order of
men highly refpeded in the ftate, and fupported
by a public eftablifhment. We find them, ac-
cording to the teftimonies of Strabo and Diodo-
rus, before the age of Auguftus C^far^ and we
find them remaining under the fame name, and
exercifing the fame funflions as of old, in Ire-
land, and in the north of Scotland, almod down
to our own times. It is well known that in both
thefe countries, every Regulus or chief had his
own bard, who was confidered as an officer of
rank in his court j and had lands afTigned him,
which defcended to his family. Of the honour
in which the bards were held, m.any inftances
occur in Oflian's poems. On all important oc-
cafions, they were the ambafTadors between con-
tending chiefs J and their perfons were held

* Vid. Cafar dc bcllo Gall. lib. 6.

facred,

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 309

facred. '* Cairbar feared to ftretch his fword to
*' the bards, though his foul was dark. Loofe
*f the bards, faid his brother Cathmor, they are
" the fons of other times. Their voice fliall be
<* heard in other ages, when the kings of Te-
" mora have failed."

From all this, the Celtic tribes clearly appear
to have been addicted in fo high a degree to
poetry, and to have made it fo much their ftudy
from the earlieft times, as may remove our won-
der at meeting with a vein of higher poetical
refinement among them, than was at firft fight
to have been expeded among nations, whom
we are accuftomed to call barbarous. Barba-
rity, I mufl: obferve, is a very equivocal terms
it admits of many different forms and degrees j
and though, in all of them, it excludes poliflied
manners, it is, however, not inconiifient with
generous fcntiments and tender afFedions *.

What

* Surely among the wild Laplanders, if any where, bar-
barity is in its nioft perfc<5l ftate. Yet their love fongs, which
Scheffer has given us in his I.apponia, are a proof that natu.
ral tendevnefs of fentiment may be found in a country, into
which the leaft glimmering of fcience has never penetrated.
To moft Engliih readers thefe fongs are well known by the
elegant tranflations of them in the Spedator, N° 366 and
'400. I fhallfubjoin SchefFcr's Latin verfion of one of them,
which has the appearance of being lirictly literal,

Sol, clariflimum emitte lumen in paludem Orra. Si enifus

■in fumma piceai-um cacumina fcirem me vifurum Orra palu-

X 3 denij

310 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

What degrees of friendfliip, love, and heroifm,
may poffibly be found to prevail in a rude ftace
of fociecy, no one can fay. Aftonifhing in-
ftances of them we know, from hiftory, have
fometimes appeared : and a few characters dif-
tinguillied by thofe high qualities, might lay a
foundation for a fet of manners being intro-
duced into the fongs of the bards, more refined,
it is probable, and exalted, according to the
ufual poetical licence, than the real manners of
the country. In particular, with refpeifl to
heroifm j the great employment of the Celtic
bards, was to delineate the chara6lers, and fing
the praifes of heroes. So Lucan j

dem, in ea eniterer, lit viderem inter quos arnica, mea eflet
flores ; omnes fufcinderem frutices ibi enatos, omnes ramos
prsfecarem, Iios virentes ramos. Curfum niibium elfem fe-
cutus, qu92 iter fuum inftituunt verfus paludem Orra, i\ ad te
volare poilcm alis, cornicum alis. Sed mihi defunt alse, al;c
querquedulce, pedefque, anferum pedes planta^ve bonx, qutp
deicrre me valeant ad te. Satis expedtafti diu ; per tot dies,
tot dies tuos optimos,oculis tuis juciindifllmis, corde tuoami-
cilhnio. Qnod fi longiirime velles efFugere, cito tamcn te
confequerer. Quid firmius validiufve effe poteft quam con-
torti nervi, catenreve ferre?e, quas duriflime ligant ? Sic amor
contorquet caput noftrum, mutat cogitationes & fententias.
Pucrorum voluntas, voluntas venti ; juvenum cogitationes,
Iong;e cogitationes. Quos fi audirem omnes, a via, a viajufta
declinarem. Unum cfl confilium quod capiam ; ita fcio viam
rediorcm me reperturum. SchefFeri Lapponia, cap. 25,

Vos

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 311

Vos quoque qui fortes animos, belloque

peremptos,
Laudibus in longum vates difFunditis asvum
Plurima feciiri fudiftis carmina bardi.

Pbarf. 1. I.

Kow when we confider a college or order of
men, who cultivating poetry throughout a long
feries of ages, had their imaginations continu-
ally employed on the ideas of heroifm ; who had
all the poems and panegyrics, which were
compofed by their predecellbrs, handed down
to them with cares who rivalled and endea-
voured to outftrip thofe who had gone before
them, each in the celebration of his particular
hero; is it not natural to think, that at length
the chara6ler of a hero would appear in their
fongs with the higheft luftre, and be adorned
with qualities truly noble ? Some of the quali-
ties indeed which diftinguifli a Fingal, modera-
tion, humanity, and clemency, would not
probably be the firft ideas of heroifm occurring
to a barbarous people : But no fooner had fuch
ideas begun to dawn on the minds of poets, than,
as the human mind eafily opens to the native
reprefentations of human perfeclion, they would
be fcized and embraced ; they would enter into
their panegyrics; they would afford materials
for fucceeding bards to work upon, and im-
X4 prove;

312 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

prove; they would contribute not a little to
exalt the public manners. For fuch fongs as
thefe, familiar to the Celtic warriors from their
childhood, and throughout their whole life,
both in war and in peace, their principal enter-
tainment, muil have had a very confidcrable in-
fluence in propagating among them real man-
ners nearly approaching to the poetical; and in
forming even fuch a hero as Fingal. Efpecialiy
when we confider that among their limited ob-
je6ls of ambition, among the few advantages
which in a favage ftate, man could obtain over
man, the chief was Fame, and that immortality
which they expedted to receive from their virtues
and exploits, in the fongs of bards *,

Having made thefe remarks on the Celtic
poetry and bards in general, I fhall next confider
the particular advantages which Offian poflefled.
He appears clearly to have lived in a period
which enjoyed all the benefit I juft now men-
tioned of traditionary poetry. The exploits of
Trathal, Trenmor, and the other anceftors of
Fingal, are fpoken of as familiarly known, i^n-

* When Edward I. conquered Wales, he put to death all
the Welch bards. This cruel policy plainly ihews, how great
an influence he imagined the fongs of thefe bards to have over
the minds of the people ; and of what nature he judged that
influence to be. The Welch bards were of the fame Celtic
race with the Scottifh and Irilh.

cient

ON THE POEMS OF^OSSIAN. 313

cient bards are frequently alluded to. In one
remarkable palTage, Offian dcfcribes hi-mfelf as
living in a fort of clafiical age, enlightened by
the memorials of former times, which were con-
veyed in the fongs of bards ; and points at a
period of darknefs and ignorance which lay be-
yond the reach of tradition. ** His words,"
fays he, " came only by halves to our ears j they
" were dark as the tales of other times, before
" the light of the fong arofe." OfTian, himfelf,
appears to have been endowed by nature with
an exquifite fenfibility of heart j prone to that
tender melancholy which is fo often an attendant
on great genius i and fufceptible equally of
ftrong and of foft emotions. He was not only
a profefifed bard, educated with care, as we
may eafily believe, to all the poetical art then
known, and connected, as he fhews us him-
felf, in intimate friendihip with the other con-
temporary bards, but a warrior alfo j and the
fon of the mod renowned hero and prince of
his age. This formed a conjundion of circum-
ftances, uncommonly favourable towards exalt-
ing the imagination of a poet. He relates
expeditions in which he had been engaged j he
fings of battles in which he had fought and over-
come i he had beheld the moft illuftrious fcenes
which that age could exhibit, both of heroifm
7 in

314 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

in war, and magnificence in peace. For how-
ever rude the magnificence of thofe times may
feem to us, we mufl remember that all ideas of
magnificence are comparative j and that the age
of Fingal was an a:ra of diftinguifhed fplendor
in that part of the world. Fingal reigned over a
confiderable territory j he was enriched with the
fpoils of the Roman province j he was ennobled
by his viflories and great aclions ; and was in all
refpeds a perfonage of much higher dignity than
any of the chieftains, or heads of Clans, who
lived in the fame country, after a more extenfive
monarchy was eftablifhed.

The manners of OfTian's age, fo far as we can
gather them from his writings, were abundantly
favourable to a poetical genius. The two dif-
piriting vices, to which Longinus imputes the
decline of poetry, covetoufnefs and effeminacy,
were as yet unknown. The cares of men were
few. They lived a roving indolent life^ hunting
and war their principal employments; and their
chief amufements, the mufic of bards and " the
" feafl: of fhells." The great obje6l purfued by
heroic fpirits, was *' to receive their fame," that
is, to become worthy of being celebrated in the
fongs of bards j and " to have their name on
" the four grey flones." To die, unlamented
by a bard, was deemed fo great a misfortune, as

even

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 315

even to diftiib their ghofts in another flate,
f^ They wander in thick mifts befide the reedy
f^ lake; but never fhall they rife, without the
** Tong, to the dvvelling of winds." After deatli,
they expeded to follow employments of the fame
nature with thofe which had amufed them on
earth ; to fly with their friends on clouds, to
purfue airy deer, and to liften to their praife in
the mourhs of bards. In fuch times as thefe, ii>
a country where poetry had been fo long culti-r
yated, and fo highly honoured, is it any wonder
that among the race and fucceffion of bards, one
Homer lliould arife; a man who, endowed with
a natural happy genius, favoured by peculiar
advantages of birth and condition, and meeting,
in the courfe of his life, with a variety of inci-
dents proper to fire his imagination, and to touch
his heart, (hould attain a degree of eminence in
poetry, worthy to draw the admiration of morq
refined ages ?

The compofitions of OfTian are fo ftrongly
marked wirh characters of antiquity, that al-
though there were no external proof to fupport
that antiquity, hardly any reader of judgment
and tafle, could hefitate in referring them to
^ very remote a:ra. There are four great
ilages through which men fucceflively pafs in
^he progrefs of fociety. The firft and earliefl: is

the

3i6 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

the life of hunters j pafturage fucceeds to this,
as the ideas of property begin to take roots next
agriculture; and laftly, commerce. Through-
out OfTian's poems, wc plainly find ourfelves in
the fird of thefe periods of fociety; during
which, hunting was the chief employment of
men, and the principal method of their procur-
ing fubfiftence. Pafturage was not indeed wholly
unknown j for we hear of dividing the herd in
the cafe of a divorce; but the allufions to herds
and to cattle are not many; and of agriculture,
we find no traces. No cities appear to have been
built in the tertitories of Fingal. No arts are
mentioned except that of navigation and of
working in iron *. Every thing prefents to

us

* Their fkill in navigation need not at ail furprize us.
Living in the weftern iflands, along the coaft, or in a country
which is every where interfected with arms of the Tea, oneot'
the firft objecft's of their attention, from the earlieft time, muft
have been how to traverfe the waters. Hence that knowledge
of the ftars, fo neceffary for guiding them by night, of which
we find feveral' traces in Offian's works; particularly in the
beatiful defcription of Cathmor's Ihield, in the yth book of
Temora. Among all the northern maritime nations, navi-
gation was very early ftudied. Piratical incurfions were the
chief means they employed for acquiring booty ; and were
among the firft exploits which diftinguifhed them in the
world. Even the favage Americans were, at their firft dif-
covery, found to pofTefs the moft furprizing fkill and dexte-
rity in navigating their immenfe lakes and rivers.

The

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 317

us the moft fimple and unimproved manners.
At their feafts, the heroes prepared their own
repaft ; they fat round the light of the burning
oak J the wind lifted their locks, and whiftled
through their open halls. Whatever was beyond
the neceffaries of life was known to them only
as the fpoil of the Roman province j " the gold
" of the llrangerj the lights of the ftranger;
" the fteeds of the ftranger, the children of the
« rein."

This reprefentation of Oflian's times, muft
ftrike us the more, as genuine and authentic,
when it is compared v.'ith a poem of later date,
which Mr. Macpherfon has preferved in one of
his notes. It is that wherein five bards are re-
prefented as palTing the evening in the houfe of
a chief, and each of them feparately giving his
defcription of the night. The night fcenery is
beautiful ; and the author has plainly imitated
the ftyle and manner of Oflian : But he has al-
lowed fome images to appear which betray a
later period of fociety. For we meet with win-

The defcription of Cuthullin's chariot, in the ift book of
Fingal, has been objected to by fome, as reprefenting greater
magnificence than is confiftent with the fuppofed poveity of
that age. But this chariot is plainly only a horfe-litter ; and
the gems mentioned in the defcription, are no other than the
fhining flones or pebbles, known to be frequently found
along the weftern coafl: of Scotland.

dows

3i8 A CRITICAL DtSSERTATION

dovvs clapping, the herds of goats and cows
feeking Ihelter, the fliepherd wandering, cora
on the plain, and the wakeful hind rebuilding
the fhocks of corn which had been overturned
by the temped. Whereas in Offian's works,
from beginning to end, all is confiflentj no
modern allufion drops from him ; but every-
where, the fame face of rude nature appears; a
country wholly uncultivated, thinly inhabited,
and recently peopled. The grafs of the rock,
the floweref the heath, the thiftle with its beard,
are the chief ornaments of his landfcapes. " The
*' defart," fays Fingal, " is enough for me, with
<« all its woods and deer."

The circle of ideas and tranfaftions, is no
wider than fuits fuch an age : Nor any greater
diverfity introduced into charaflers, than the
events of that period would naturally difplay.
Valour and bodily ftrength are the admired qua-
lities. Contentions arife, as is ufual among
favage nations, from the flighteft caufes. To
be affronted at a tournament, or to be omitted
in the invitation to a feaft, kindles a war. Wo-
men are often carried away by force j and the
whole tribe, as in the Homeric times, rife to
avenge the wrong. The heroes lliow refinement
of fentiment indeed on feveral occafions, but
none of manners. They fpeak of their pail

actions

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 31^

a£lions with freedom, boaft of their exploits, and
fing their own praife. In their battles, it is evi-
dent that drums, trumpets, or bagpipes, were
not known or ufed. They had no expedient
for giving the military alarms but ftriking a
Ihield, or raifing a loud cry: And hence the
loud and terrible voice of Fingal is often men-
tioned, as a necelTary qualification of a great
general j like the (^or,v aya^o; MsnXaoi of Homer.
Of military difcipline or Ikill, they appear to
have been entirely deditute. Their armies feem
not to have been numerous; their battles were
diforderlyj and terminated, for the mod parr,
by a perfonal combat, or wreilling of the two
chiefs j after which, '* the bard fung the fong
" of peace, and the battle ceafed along the
" field."

The manner of commpofition bears all the
marks of the greateft antiquity. No artful tran-
fitionsj nor full and extended connexion of
parts J fuch as we find among the poets of later
times, when order and regularity of compofition
were more Hudied and known; but a ftyle al-
ways rapid and vehement; in narration concifc
even to abrupcnefs, and leaving feveral circum-
ftances to be fupplied by the reader's imagina-
tion. The language has all that figurative caft,
which, as I before ihevvcd, partly a glowing and
I undilciplined

320 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

undifciplined imagination, partly the fterility of
language and the want of proper terms, have
always introduced into the early fpecch of
nations -, and in feveral refpects, it carries a
remarkable refemblance to the (lyle of the Old
Teftament. It deferves particular notice, as one
of the mod genuine and decifive charadlers of
antiquity, that very few general terms or ab-
ftrafl ideas, are to be met with in the whole
colIe6lion of OlTian's works. The ideas of men,
at firft, were all particular. They had not
words to exprefs general conceptions. Thefe
were the confequence of more profound reflec-
tion, and longer acquaintance with the arts of
thought and of fpecch. Ofllan, accordingly,
almoft never exprelles himfelf in the abftraft.
His ideas extended little farther than to the ob-
je6ls he faw around him. A public, a commu-
nity, the univerfe, were conceptions beyond
his fphere. Even a mountain, a fea, or a lake,
which he has occafion to mention, though only
in a fimile, are for the moft part particularized j
it is the hill of Cromla, the ftorm of the fea of
Maimer, or the reeds of the lake of Lego. A
mode of expreffion, which whilft it is charade-
ridical of ancient ages, is at the fame time highly
favourable to defcriptive poetry. For the fame
reafons, perfonification is a poetical figure not

very

■ ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 321

very common with OITian. Inanimate objedls,
fuch as winds, trees, flowers, he fometimes per-
fonifies with great beauty. But the perfonifi-
cations which are fo familiar to later poets of
Fame, Time, Terror, Virtue, and the reft of
that clafs, were unknown to our Celtic bard.
Thefe were modes of conception too abftra6l for
his age.

All thefe are marks fo undoubted, and fome
of them too fo nice and delicate, of the moft
early times, as put the high antiquity of thefe
poems out of qucftion. Efpecially when we
confider, that if there had been any impofture
in this cafe, it muft have been contrived and
executed in the Highlands of Scotland, two or
three centuries agoj as up to this period, botli
by manufcripts, and by the teftimony of a mul-
titude of living witnefles, concerning the un-
controvertible tradition of thefe poems, they
can clearfy be traced. Now this is a period
when that country enjoyed no advantages for a
compofition of this kind, which it may not be
fuppofed to have enjoyed in as great, if not in a
greater degree, a thoufand years before. To
fuppofe that two or three hundred years ago,
when we well know the Highlands to have been
in a ftate of grofs ignorance and barbarity, there
(hould have arifen in that country a poet, of

Vol. II. Y fuch

S12 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

fuch exquifite genius, and of fuch deep know-
ledge of mankind, and of hiftory, as to divert
himfelf of the ideas and nnanners of his own age,
and to give us a juft and natural pi(5ture of a ftate
of fociety ancienter by a thoufand years j one
who could fupport this counterfeited antiquity
through fuch a large collecflion of poenns, with-
out the lead inconfiftency ; and who, pofTefled
of all this genius and art, had at the fame time
the felf-denial of concealing himfelf, and of
afcribing his own works to an antiquated bard,
without the impoflure being detected j is a
fuppofition that tranfcends all bounds of credi-
bility.

There are, befides, two other circumftances
to be attended to, ftill of greater weight, if
poflible, againft this hypothefis. One is, the
total abfcnce of religious ideas from this work j
for which the tranflator has, in his preface,
given a very probable account, on the footing
of its being the work of OITian. The druidical
fuperftition was, in the days of Oflian, on the
point of its final extinftion ; and for particular
reafons, odious to the family of Fingal -, whilfl:
the Chriftian faith was not yet eftablifhed. But
had it been the work of one, to whom the ideas
of Chridianity were familiar from his infancy,
and who had fuperaddcd to them alio the bigot-
1 cd

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 323

ed fuperftition of a dark age and country ; it is
impoflible but in feme paffage or other, the
traces of them would have appeared. The other
circumflance is, the entire filence which reigns
with refpedl to all the great clans or families,
which are now edablilLed in the Highlands, The
origin of thefe feveral clans is known to be very
ancient : And it is as well known, that there is
no paflion by which a native Highlander is more
diftinguiflicd, than by attachment to his clan,
and jealoufy for its honour. That a Highland
bard in forging a work relating to the antiquities
of his country, ihould have inferred no circum-
ftance which pointed out the rife of his own clan,
which afcertained its antiquity, or increafed its
glory, is, of all fuppofitions that can be formed,
the moft improbable ; and the filence on this
head,' amounts to a demonftration that the au-
thor lived before any of the prefent great clans
were formed or known.

Assuming it then, as we well may, for cer-
tain, that the poems now under confideration,
are genuine venerable monuments of very remote
antiquity; I proceed to make fome remarks
upon their general fpirit and drain. The two
great charafleriftics of OlTian's poetry are, ten-
dernefs and fublimiiy. It breathes nothing of
the gay and chearful kind j an air of folemnity
y 2 and

jH A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

and ferloufnefs is diffuled over the whole. Oftian
IS perhaps the only poet who never relaxes, or
lets himfelf down into the light and amufing
ftrain ; which I readily admit to be no fmall
difadvantage to him, with the bulk of readers.
He moves perpetually in the high region of the
grand and the pathetic. One key note is ftruck
at the beginning, and fupported to the end ; nor
is any ornament introduced, but what is perfedlly
concordant with the general tone or melody.
The events recorded, are all ferious and grave ;
the fcenery throughout, wild and romantic.
The extended heath by the fea-ftiore j the
mountain fhaded with miftj the torrent ruQiing
through a folitary valley ; the fcattered oaks,
and the tombs of warriors overgrown with mofs ;
all produce a folemn attention in the mind, and
prepare it for great and extraordinary events.
We find not in Oflian, an imagination that
fports itfelf, and dreffes out gay trifles to pleafe
the fancy. His poetry, more perhaps than that
of any other writer, deferves to be ftyled. The
Poetry of the Heart. It is a heart penetrated with
noble fentiments, and with fublime and tender
pafllonsi a heart that glows, and kindles the
fancy j a heart that is full, and pours itfelf forth.
Onian did not write, like modern poets, to
pleafe readers and critics. He fung from the

love

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 325

love of poetry and fong. His tk-light was to
think of the h;;roes among whom he had flou-
rilhed j to recal the afFei5ting incidents of his
life; to dwell upon his pail wars and loves and
friendfhipsi till, as he exprelTcs it himfelf,
*? there comes a voice to OfTian and awakes his
" foul. It is the voice of years that are gone;
" they roll before me with all their deeds;" and
under this true poetic infpiration, giving vent to
his genius, no wonder we fliould lb often hear,
and acknovyledge in his ftrainsj the powerful and
cvcr-pleafing voice of nature.

• Arte, natura potentior omni. —

Elt Deus in nobis, agitante calefcimus illo.

It is neceflary here to obferve, that the beau-
ties of OlBan's writings cannot be felt by thofe
who have given them only a fingle or a hafty
perufal. His manner is fo different from that of
the poets, to whom we are mod accuftomed ;
his ftyle is fo concife, and fo much crowded
with imagery; the mind is kept at fuch a llretch
in accompanying the author; that an ordinary
reader is at firfl: apt to be dazzled and fatigued,
rather than pleafed. His poems require to be
taken up at intervals, and to be frequently re-
viewed ; and then it is impoffible but his beau-
lies muil open to every reader who is capable of
Y 3 fenfi.

326 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

fenfibility. Thofe who have the higheft degree
of it, will relifli them the moft.

As Homer is, of all the great poets, the one
whofe manner, and whofe times come the neareft
to OlTian's, we are naturally led to run a parallel
in fonne inftances between the Greek and the Cel-
tic bard. For though Homer lived more than a
thoufand years before Ofiian, it is not from the
age of the world, but from the ftate of fociety,
that we are to judge of refembling times. The
Greek has, in feveral points, a manifeft fupe-
riority. He introduces a greater variety of
incidents} he poflefles a larger compafs of ideas j
has more diverfity in his characters i and a much
deeper knowledge of human nature. It was not
to be expeded, that in any of thefe particulars^,
Offian could equal Homer. For Homer lived in
a country where fociety was much farther ad-
vanced; he had beheld many more objeClsj cities
built and flourifhing; laws inftituted ; order,
difcipline, and arts begun. Flis field of obfer-
vation was much larger and more fplendid ; his
knowledge, ofcourfe, more extenfive j his mind
alfo, it fliall be granted, more penetrating. But
if OfTian's ideas and objefts be lefs diverfified
than thofe of Homer, they are all, however, of
the kind fittefl: for poetry : The bravery and
generofity of heroes, the tendernefs of lovers,

the

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 327

the attachments of friends, parents, and chil-
dren. In a rude age and country, though the
events that happen be few, the undiflipatcd mind
broods over them more; they ftrike the imagi-
nation, and fire the paffions in a higher degree;
and of confequence become happier materials to
a poetical genius, than the lame events when
fcattered through the wide circle of more varied
aftion, and cultivated life.

Homer is a more cheerful and fprightly poet
than Oflian. You difcern in him all the Greek
vivacity J whereas OfTjan uniformly maintains
the gravity and folemnity of a Celtic hero. This
too is in a great meafure to be accounted for
from the different fituations in which they lived,
partly perfonal, and partly national. OfTian had
furvived all his friends, and was difpofed to me-
lancholy by the incidents of his life. But
befides this, cheerfulnefs is one of the many
blelTings which we owe to formed fociety. The
folitary wild ftate is always a ferious one. Bating
the fudden and violent burfts of mirth, which
fometimes break forth at their dances and feaftsj
the favage American tribes have been noted "by
all travellers for their gravity and taciturnity.
Somewhat of this taciturnity may be alfo re-
marked in OITian. On all occafions he is frugal
of his words ; and never gives you more of ari
Y 4 image

328 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

image or a defcription, than is juft fufficient to
place it before you in one clear point of view. It
is a blaze of lightning, which flalhes and va-
nilhes. Homer is more extended in his defcrip-
tions J and fills them up with a greater variety
of circumftances. Both the poets are dramatic j
that is, they introduce their pe-rfonages fre-
quently fpeaking before us. But OfTian is con-
cife and rapid in his fpeeches, as he is in every
other thing. Homer, with the Greek vivacity,
had alfo fome portion of the Greek loquacity.
His fpeeches indeed are highly charadenftical j
and to them we are much indebted for that ad-
mirable difplay he has given of human nature.
Yet if he be tedious any where, it is in ihefe^
fome of them trifling j and fome of them plainly
linfeafonable. Both poets are eminently fublimej
but a difi'erence may be remarked in the fpecies
of their fublimity. Homer's fublimity is ac-
companied with more impetuofity and fire ;
OfTian's with more of a folemn and awful gran-
deur. Homer hurries you along i Ofllan ele-
vates, and fixes you in aftonifhment. Homer is
moft fublime in aflions and battles i Offian, in
defcription and fentiment. In the pathetic.
Homer, when he chufes to exert it, has great
power; but OfTian exerts that power much
ofcener^ and has the character of tendernefs far

more

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN, 329

more deeply imprinted on his works. No po^t
knew better how to feize and melt the heart.
With regard to dignity of fentiment, the pre-
eminence muft clearly be given to Oflian. This
is indeed a furprifing circumftance, that in point
of humanity, magnanimity, virtuous feelings of
every kind, our rude Celtic bard Ihould be dif-
tinguilhed to fuch a degree, that not only the
heroes of Homer, but even thofe of the polite
and refined Virgil, are left far behind by thofc
of Offian.

After thefe general obfervations on the ge-
nius and fpirit of our author, I now proceed to
a nearer view, and more accurate examination
of his works : and as Fingal is the firft great
poem in this colleftion, it is proper to begin
with it. To refufe the title of an epic poem to
Fingal, becaufe it is not, in every little particu-
lar, exacftly conformable to the practice of Ho-
mer and Virgil, were the mere fqueamiihnefs and
pedantry of criticifm. Examined even accord-
ing to Ariftotle's rules, it will be found to have
all the eflential requifites of a true and regular
epicj and to have feveral of them in fo high a
degree, as at firft view to raife our aftonifhment
on finding OfTian's compofition fo agreeable to
rules of which he was entirely ignorant. But
pur aftonilhment will ceafe, when we confider

330 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

from what fource Ariftotle drew thofe rules. Ho-
mer knew no more of the laws of criticifm than
OfTian. But guided by nature, he compofed in
verfe a regular ftory, founded on heroic actions,
•which all poftcrity admired. Ariftotle, with
great fagacicy and penetration, traced the caufes
of this general admiration. He obferved what
it was in Homer's compofition, and in the con-
duit of his ftory, which gave it fuch power to
pleafe ; from this obfcrvation he deduced the
rules which poets ought to follow, who would
write and pleafe like Homer ; and to a compofi-
tion formed according to fuch rules, he gave the
name of an epic poem. Hence his whole fyftem
arofe. Ariftotle ftudied nature in Homer. Ho-
mer and Ofiian both wrote from nature. No
wonder that among all the three, there fhould be
fuch agreement and conformity.

The fundamental rules delivered by Ariftotle
concerning an epic poem, are thefe : That the
adion which is the ground-work of the poem^
fhould be one, complete, and great ; that it
fhould be feigned, not merely hiftorical j that
it fliould be enlivened with characters and man-
ners, and heightened by the marvellous.

But before entering on any of thefe, it may
perhaps be af^ed, what is the moral of Fingal ?
For, according to M. BofTu, an epic poem is

no

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 331

no other than an allegory contrived to illuflrate
fome moral truth. The poet, fays this critic,
mufl: begin with fixing on fome maxim, or in-
ftrudion, which he intends to inculcate on man-
kind. He next forms a fable, like one of flop's,
wholly with a view to the moral ; and having
thus fettled and arranged his plan, he then looks
into traditionary hiflory for names and inci^
dents, to give his fable fome air of probability.
Never did a more frigid, pedantic notion, enter
into the mind of a critic. We may fafely pro-
nounce, that he who fhould compofe an epic
poem after this manner, who fliould firft lay
down a moral and contrive a plan, before he had
thought of his perfonages and aftors, might de-
liver indeed very found inftrudtion, but would
find few readers. There cannot be the lead
doubt that the firft objeft which flrikcs an epic
poetj which fires his genius, and gives him any
idea of his work, is the aClion or fubjed he is to
celebrate. Hardly is there any tale, any fubje(ft
a poet can chufe for fuch a work, but v;ill aff^ord
fome general moral inftruclion. An epic poem
is by its nature one of the moft moral of all poe-
tical compofitions : But its moral tendency is by
no means to be limited to fome common-place
maxim, which may be gathered from the (lory.
Jt arifes from the admiration of heroic adions,

which

^2^ A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

which fuch a compoficion is peculiarly calculated
to produce j from the virtuous emotions which
the chara(flers and incidents raife, whilft: we
read iti from the happy imprefTion which all
the parts feparately, as well as the whole taken
together, leave upon the mind. However, if a
general moral be ftill infilled on, Fingal obvi-
oufly furnifhes one, not inferior to that of any
other poet, viz. That Wifdom and Bravery al-
ways triumph over brutal force : or another
nobler ftill ; That the moft compleat vid:ory over
an enemy is obtained by that moderation and
generofity which convert him into a friend.

The unity of the Epic aflion, which, of all
Ariftotle's rules, is the chief and moft material,
is fo ftridly preferved in Fingal, that it muft be
perceived by every reader. Ic is a more com-
pleat unity than what arifes from relating the
actions of one man, which the Greek critick
jullly cenfures as imperfed -, it is the unity of
one enterprife, the deliverance of Ireland from
the invafion of Swaran : An enterprife, which
has furely the full Heroic dignity. All the in-
cidents recorded bear a conftant reference to one
end i no double plot is carried on j but the parts
unite into a regular whole : And as the adion is
one and great, fo it is an entire or compleat
aflion. For we find, as the Critic farther re-

quires^

CM THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 2S3

quires, a beginning, a middle, atld an end j a
Nodus, or intrigue in the poem j difficulties
occurring through Cuthullin's rafhnefs and bad
fuccefs} thofe difficulties gradually furmounted ;
and at laft the work conducted to that happy
Conclufion which is held elTential to Epic
Poetry. Unity is indeed obferved with greater
exadnefs in Fingal, than in almoft any other
Epic compofirion. For not only is unity of
fubje6v maintained, but that of time and place
alfo. The Autumn is clearly pointed out as the
feafon of the aflion ; and from beginning to
end the fcene is never (hifted from the heath of
Lena, along the fea-fhore. The duration of the
aflion in Fingal, is much fhorter than in the Iliad
or u^neid, but fure there may be fhorter as
well as longer Heroic Poems j and if the autho-
rity of Ariffotle be alfo required for this, he fays
cxprefsly that the Epic compofition is indefinite
as to the time of its duration. Accordingly t! e
Aflion of the Iliad lafls only forty-feven days,
whilfl: that of the /Eneid is continued for more
than a year.

Throughout the whole of Fincral, there
reigns that grandeur of fentimenr, flyle, and
imagery, which ought ever to diftinguifh this
high fpecies of poetry. The (lory is conduced
with no fmall art. The poet goes not back to a

tedious

334 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

tedious recital of the beginning of the war with
Svvaran ; but haftening to the main a6tion, he
falls in exaifliy, by a moft happy coincidence of
thought, with the rule of Horace.

Semper ad eventum feftinat, & in medias res,

Non lecus ac notas, auditorem rapit

Nee gemino bellum Trojanum auditur ab ovo,

De Arte Poet.

He invokes no mufe, for he acknov;ledged
none ; but his occafional addreffes to Malvina^
have a finer effedl than the invocation of any
mufe. He fets out with no formal propofition
of his fubjeft ; but the fubjeft naturally and
eafily unfolds itfelfj the poem opening in an
animated manner, with the fituation of Cuthul-
lin, and the arrival of a fcout who informs him
of Swaran's landing. Mention is prefently made
of Fingal, and of the expefled afllftance from
the (hips of the lonely ifle, in order to give fur-
ther light to the fubjeft. For the poet often
fhows his addrefs in gradually preparing us for
the events he is to introduce; and in particular
the preparation for the appearance of Fingal,
the previous expectations that are raifed, and the
extreme magnificence fully anfwering thefe ex*
pedlations, with which the hero is at length
prefented to us, are all worked up with fuch

Ikilful

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 335

Ikilful condudt as would do honour to any poet
of the moft refined times. Homer's art in mag-
nifying the charader of Achilles has been uni-
verfally admired. OlTian certainly fhews no lefs
art in aggrandizing Fingal. Nothing could be
more happily imagined for this purpole than the
whole management of the laft battle, wherein
Gaul the fon of Morni, had befought Fingal to
retire, and to leave to him and his other chiefs
the honour of the day. The generoficy of
the king in agreeing to this propofal j the
majefty with which he retreats to the hill, from
whence he was to behold the engagement, at-
tended by his bards, and waving the lightning
of his fword ; his perceiving the chiefs over-
powered by numbers, but from unwilling-
nefs to deprive them of the glory of vidory
by coming in perfon to their aflillance, firfl:
fending Ullin, the bard, to animate their cou-
rage J and at laft, when the danger becomes
more prefling, his rifing in his might, and inter-
pofing, like a divinity, to decide the doubtful
fate of the day -, are all circumftances contrived
with fo much art as plainly difcover the Celtic
Bards to have been not unpradifed in heroic
poetry.

The ftory which is the foundation of the Iliad
is in itfelf as ftmple as that of Fingal. A quarrel

units

^^6 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

arifes between Achilles and Agamemnon con-
cerning a female flave j on which, Achilles,
apprehending himfelf to be injured, withdraws
his afTiftance from the reft of the Greeks. The
Greeks fall into great diftrefs, and befeech him
to be t-econciled to them. He refufes to fight
for them in perfon, but fends his friend Patro-
clus i and upon his b^ing flain, goes forth to
revenge his death, and kills Heftor. The fub-
jed of Fingal is this : Swaran comes to invade
Ireland : Cuthullin, the guardian of the young
king, had applied for afTiftance to Fingal, who
reigned in the oppofite coaft of Scotland. But
before Fingal's arrival, he is hurried by rafti
counfel to encounter Swaran. He is defeated j
he retreats; and defponds. Fingal arrives in
this conjunflure. The battle is for fome time
dubious; but in the end he conquers Swaran j
and the remembrance of Swaran's being the
brother of Agandecca, who had once faved his
life, makes him difmifs him honourably. Ho-
mer, it is true, has filled up hisftory with a much
greater variety of particulars than Oflian j and
in this has fliewn a compafs of invention fuperior
to that of the other poet. But it muft not be
forgotten, that though Homer be more circum-
ftantial, his incidents however are lefs diverfified
in kind than thofe of Oflian, War and blood-

ihcd

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 337

fhed reign throughout the Iliad j and notwith-
flanding all the fertility of Homer's invention,
there is fo much uniformity in his fubjeds, that
there are few readers, who, before the clofe, are
not tired of perpetual fighting. Whereas in
Offian, the mind is relieved by a more agreeable
diverfity. There is a finer mixture of war and
heroifm, with love and friendfhip, of martial,
with tender fcenes, than is to be met with, per-
haps, in any other poet. The Epifodes too,
have great propriety ; as natural, and proper to
that age and country : confiding of the fongs of
bards, which are known to have been the great en-
tertainment of the Celtic heroes in war, as well
as in peace. Thefe fongs are not introduced at
randoms if you except the Epifode ofDuchom-
mar and Morna, in the firft book, which
though beautiful, is more unartful, than any of
the reft i they have always fome particular rela-
tion to the acftor who is interefted, or to the
events which are going on -, and, whilft they
vary the fcene, they preferve a fufficient con-
nexion with the main fubjecl, by the fitnefs and
propriety of their introdu6lion.

As Fingal's love to Agandecca, influences
fome cirumftances of the poem, particularly
the honourable difmiflion of Swaran at the end ;
it was neceflary that we fhould be let into this

Vol. II. Z pare

338 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

part of the hero's ftory. But as it lay without
the compafs of the prefent adlion, it could be
regularly introduced no where, except in an
Epifode. Accordingly the poet, with as much
propriety, as if Arifcotle himfelf had directed the
plan, has contrived an Epifode for this purpofe
in the fong of Carril, at the beginning of the
third book.

The conclufion of the poem is flri(5lly ac-
cording to rule i and is every way noble and
plcafing. The reconciliation of the contending
heroes, the confolation of Cuthullin, and the
general felicity that crowns the aflion, footh
the mind in a very agreeable manner, and form
that paffage from agitation and trouble, to per-
fe6l quiet and repofe, which critics require as
the proper termination of the Epic work.
** Thus they palfed the night in fong, and
" brought back the morning with joy. Fingal
<^ arofe on the heath j and Ihook his glittering
*' fpear in his hand. He moved firft towards
" the plains of Lena j and we followed like a
" ridge of fire. Spread the fail, faid the king
" of Morven, and catch the winds that pour
" from Lena. — We rofe on the wave with fongs j
<« and ruflied with joy through the foam of the
" ocean." — So much for the unity and general
conduct of the Epic allien in Fingal,

With

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 339

With regard to that property of the fubjeft
which Ariftode requires, that it fliould be feigned
not hiftorical, he muft not be underftood fo
i1:ri(flly, as if he meant to exclude all fubjedls
Vvhich have any foundation in truth. For fuch
cxclufion would both be unreafonabie in itfelf,
and, wl;at is more, would be contrary to the
praclilice of Homer, who is known to have
founded his Iliad on hiftorical fadls concerning
the war of Troy, which was famous throughout
all Greece. Ariftotle means no more than that
it is the bufinefs of a poet not to be a mere an-
nalift of fafls, but to embelliOi truth with beau-
tiful, probable, and ufeful fiflions j to copy
nature, as he himfelf explains it, like painters,
who preferve a likenefs, but exhibit their objedts
more grand and beautiful than they are in reality.
That OfTian has followed this courfe, and build-
ing upon true hiftory, has fufficiently adorned it
with poetical fidlion for aggrandizing his cha-
rasflers and fafls, will not, I believe, be quef-
tioned by moft readers. At the fame time, the
foundation which thofe fads and characters had
in truth, and the fhare which the poet himfelf-
had in the tranfadions which he records, muft
be confidered as no fmall advantage to his work.
For truth makes an impreflion on the mind far
beyond any fidion } and no man, let his ima-
Z 2 gination

340 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

gination be ever fo ftrong, relates any events (a
feelingly as tlwfein which he has been interefted;
paints any fcene fo naturally as one which he has
feen ; or draws any charatf^ers in finrh ftron^
colours as thofe which he has perfonally known.
It is confidercdas an advantage of the Epic fub-
jecT: to be taken from a period fo diftant, as by
being involved in the darknefs of tradition, may
give licence to fable. Though Oflian's fubjeft
may at firft view appear unfavourable in this
refpeft, as being taken from his own times, yet
when we refle(5t that he lived to an extreme old
ao-e ; that he relates what had been tran failed in
another country, at the dillance of many years,
and after all that race of men who had been the
aflors were gone off the ftage; we ftiall find the
objcclion in a great meafure obviated. In fo
rude an age> when no written records were
known, when tradition was loofe, and accuracy
of any kind little attended to, what was greac
and heroic in one generation, eafily ripened inta
che marvellous in the next.

The natural reprcfcntation of human charac-
ters in an Epic Foem is highly eflential to its-
nicrit : And in refped of this there can be na
doubt of Homer's excelling all the heroic poets
who have ever wrote. But though Oflian be
much inferior to riomer in tliis article, he wilt

be

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 341

be found to be equal at leafl:, if not fuperior, to
Virgil ; and has indeed given all the difplay of
human nature, which the fimpie occurrences of
his times could be expeded to furniili. No dead
uniformity of charadler prevails in Fingal j bur,
on the contrary, the principal characters are not
only clearly diftinguilhed, but fometimes art-
fully contrafted, lb as to illudrate each other.
Oflian's heroes are, like Homer's, all brave ;
but their bravery, like thofe of Homer's too, is
of different kinds. For inftance, the prudent,
the fedate, the modeft and circumfpeil Connal,
is finely oppofed to the prefumpcuous, rafli,
overbearing, but gallant and generous Calmar.
Calmar hurries Cuthullin into aclion by his te-
merity } and when he fees the bad effecl of his
counfels, he will not furvive the difgrace. Con-
nal, like another UlyfTes, attends Cuthullin to
his retreat, counfels, and comforts him under
his misfortune. The fierce, the proud, and
high-fpirited Swaran is admirably contrafted
with the calm, the moderate, and generous Fin-
gal. The character of Ofcar is a favourite one
throughout the whole poems. The amiable
warmth of the young warrior; his eager impe-
tuofity in the day of adion ; his pafllon for
fame; his fubmiffion to his father; his tender-
^efs for Malvina, are. the ftrokes of a mafterl7
Z 3 pencil^

342 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

pencil i the flrokes are few j but it is the hand of
nature, and attrads the heart. Ofllan's own
character, the old man, the hero, and the bard,
all in one, prefents to us through the whole
work a moft refpedable and venerable figure,
which we always contemplate with pleafure.
Cuthullin is a hero of the higheft clafsi daring
magnanimous, and exquifitely fenfible to honour.
"We become attached to his intereft, and are
deeply touched with his diftrefsj and after the
admiration raifed for him in the firft part of the
poem, it is a ftrong proof of Offian's mafterly
genius that he durll adventure to produce to us
another hero, compared with whom, even the
great Cuthullin, fhould be only an inferior per-
fdnage ; and who fhould rife as far above him, as
Cuthullin rifes above the refl:.

Hrre indeed, in the charac^ter and defcription
of Fingal, Offian triumphs almoft unrivalled :
For we may boldly defy all antiquity to fhew us
any hero equal to Fingal. Homer's Hecflor
poffeffes feveral great and amiable qualities ; but
Heclor is a fecondary perfonage in the Iliad, not
the hero of the work. We fee him only occa.
fionally j we know much lefs of him than we do
of Fingal ; who not only in this Epic Poem,
but in Temora, and throughout the reft of
Offian's works, is prefented in all that variety of
7 . 1'S'^ts^

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 343

lights, which give the full difplay of a charader.
And though Hector faithfully difcharges his
duty to his country, his friends, and his family,
he is tinftured, however, with a degree of the
fame favage ferocity, which prevails among all
the Homeric heroes. For we find him infulting
over the fallen Patroclus, with the mod cruel
taunts, and telling him, when he lies in the
agony of death, that Achilles cannot help him
now J and that in a fhort time his body, ftripped
naked, and deprived of funeral honours, Ihall
be devoured by the Vultures *. Whereas in the
charaifler of Fingal, concur almoft all the qua-
lities that can ennoble human nature -, that can
either make us admire the hero, or love the
man. He is not only unconquerable in war,
but he makes his people happy by his wifdom in
the days of peace. He is truly the father of his
people. He is known by the epithet of " Fingal
'* of the mildeft look;" and diftinguiflied, on
every occafion, by humanity and generofity.
He is merciful to his foes f 3 full of afFedtion to

his

* Iliad xvi. 830. 11. xvii. 127.

t When he commands his fons, after Swaran is taken
prifoner, to " purfue the reft of Lochlin, over the heath of
" Lena ; that no vciTel may hereafter bound on the dark-
" rolling waves of Iniftore ;" he means n.ot afrurcdly, as
feme have mifrcprefentcd ]iirh, to order a general flaughter
Z 4 of

34+ A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

his children j full of concern about his friends ;
and never mentions Agandecca, his firfl: love,
without the utmoft tendernefs. He is the uni-
verfal protedlor of the diftreflTed ; " None ever

<* went fad from Fingal." " O Ofcar 1 bend

« the ftrong in arms j but fpare the feeble hando
" Be thou a ftream of many tides againft the
" foes of thy people j but like the gale that
<' moves the grafs, to thofe who afk thine aid.
« So Trenmor lived j fuch Trathal was j and
«' fuch has Fingal been. My arm was the fup-
*< port of the injured j the weak refted behind
«» the lightning of my fteel." — Thefe were the
maxims of true heroifm, to which he formed
his grandfon. His fame is reprefented as every
where fpread j the greatell heroes acknowledge
his fuperiority ; his enemies tremble at his name j
and the highefl: encomium that can be beftowed
on one whom the poet would molt exalt, is to
fay, that his foul was like the foul of Fingal.

To do juftice to the poet's merit, in fupport-
ing fuch a character as this, I muft obferve,
what is not commonly attended to, that there is

of the foes, and to prevent their faving themfelves by flight;
hut, like a wife general, he commands his chiefs to render
the vidory complete, by a 'total rout of the enemy; that
they might adventure no miore for the future, to fit out any
fleet againfl him or his idlies.

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 345

no part of poetical execution more difficult, than
to draw a perfedl charader in fuch a nnanner, as
to render it diftind and affefiing to the mind.
Some ftrokes of human imperfedion and frailty,
are what ufually give us the moft clear view, and
the moft fenfible impreflion of a charader j be-
caufe they prefent to us a man, fuch as we have
fecn i they recal known features of human
nature. When poets attempt to go beyond this
range, and defcribe a faultlefs hero, they, for
the moft part, fet before us a fort of vague un-
diftinguifhable charader, fuch as the imagina-
tion cannot lay hold of, or realize to itfelf, as
the objedl of affection. We know how much
Virgil has failed in this particular. His perfeft
hero, ^neas, is an unanimated, inilpid per-
fonage, whom we may pretend to admire, but
"whom no one can heartily love. But what Vir-
gil has failed in, Offian, to our aftonifliment,
has fuccefsfully executed. His Fingal, though
exhibited without any of the common human
failings, is neverthelefs a real man j a charadter
which touches and interefts every reader. To
this it has much contributed, that the poet has
reprefented him as an old man -, and by this has
gained the advantage of throwing around him a
great many circumftances, peculiar to that age,
^hich paint him to the fancy in a more dillindt

light.

346 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

light. He is furrounded with his family > he
inftru6ts his children in the principles of virtue ;
he is narrative of his paft exploits; he is vene-
rable with the grey locks of agej he is frequently
difpofed to moralize, li.-ve an old man, on hu-
irian vanity and the profpecl of death. There is
more art, at leait more felicity, in this, than
may at firft be imagined. For youth and old
age, are the two dates of human life, capable of
being placed in the moft pidurefque lights.
Middle age is more general and vague ; and has
fewer circumftance:^ peculiar to the idea of it.
And when any objeft is in a fituation, that admits
it to be rendered particular, and to be cloathed
with a variety of circumftances, it always (lands
out more clear and full in poetical defcription.

Besides human perfonages, divine or fuper-
natural agents are often introduced into epic
poetry J forming what is called the machinery
of it J which moft critics hold to be an effentiai
part. The marvellous, it muft be admitted, has
always a great charm for the bulk of readers.
It gratifies the imagination, and affjrds room for
ftriking and fublime defcription. No wonder,
therefore, that all poets fhould have a ftrong
propenfity towards it. But I muft obferve, that
nothing is more difficult, than to adjuft properly
the marvellous with the probable. If a poet

fucrifice

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 347

facrifice probability, and fill his work with ex-
travagant fupernatural fcenes, he fpreads over it
an appearance of romance and childifli fiftionj
he tranfports his readers fronn this world, into a
fantaftic, vifionary region ; and lofes that
weight and dignity which fhould reign in epic
poetry. No work, from which probability is
altogether banifhed, can make a lafling or deep
jmpreflion. Human adions and manners, are
always the mofl: interelling objefts which can
be prefented to a human mind. All machinery,
therefore, is faulty which withdraws thefe too
much from view; or obfcures them under a
cloud of incredible fidions. Befides being tem-
perately employed, machinery ought always to
have fome foundation in popular belief. A poet
is by no means at liberty to invent what fyftcm
of the marvellous he pleafes : He mud avail
himfclf either of the religious faith, or the fuper-
flitious credulity of the country wherein he
lives i fo as to give an air of probability to
events which are mod contrary to the common
courfe of nature.

In thefe refpeds, OfTian appears to me to have
been remarkably happy. He has indeed fol-
lowed the fame courfe with Homer. For ic is
perfedly abfurd to imagine, as fome critics have
done, that Homer's mythology was invented by

him,

J48 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

him, in confequence of profound reflexions on
the benefit it would yield to poetry. Homer
was no fuch refining genius. He found the
traditionary (lories on which he built his Iliad,
mingled with popular legends copcerning the
intervention of the gods j and he adopted thefe,
becaufe they amufed the fancy. Offian, in like
manner, found the tales of his country full of
ghofts and fpirits : It is likely he believed them
himfelf i and he introduced them, becaufe they
gave his poems that folemn and marvellous caft,
which fuited his genius. This was the only
machinery he could employ with propriety i be-
caufe it was the only intervention of fupernatu-
ral beings, which agreed with the common belief
of the country. It was happy j becaufe it did
not interfere in the leafl: with the proper difplay
of human characters and aftions; becaufe it had
lefs of the incredible, than moft other kinds of
poetical machinery; and becaufe it ferved to di-
verfify the fcene, and to heighten the fubje6l by
an awful grandeur, which is the great defign of
machinery.

As Ofllan's mythology is peculiar to himfelf,
and makes a confiderable figure in his other
poems, as well as in Fingal, it may be proper to
make fome obfervations on it, independent of
its fubferviency to epic compofition. It turns,

for

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 349

for the moll part, on the appearances of departed
fpirits. Thefe, confonantly to the notions of
every rude age^ are reprefented not as purely
immaterial, but as thin airy forms, which can
be vifible or invifible at pleafurej their voice is
feeble i their arm is weak i but they are endowed
with knowledge more than human. In a feparate
Hate, they retain the fame difpofitions which
animated them in this life. They ride on the
wind J they bend their airy bows j and purfue
deer formed of clouds. The ghofts of departed
bards continue to fing. The ghofts of departed
heroes frequent the fields of their former fame.
« They reft together in their caves/ and talk of
" mortal men. Their fongs are of other worlds.
" They come fometimes to the ear of reft, and
" raife their feeble voice." All this prefents to
us much the fame fet of ideas, concerning fpirits,
as we find in the eleventh book of the Odylfey,
where UlyflTes vifits the regions of the dead : And
in the twenty-third book of the Iliad, the ghofl:
of Patroclus, afcer appearing to Achilles, vanifhes
precifely like one of Oflian's, emitting a fhrill,
feeble cry, and melting away like fmoke.

But though Homer's and Oflian's ideas con-
cerning ghofts were of the fame nature, we
cannot but obferve, that Oflian's ghofts are
drawn with much ftronger and livelier colours
t than

350 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

than thofe of Homer. Offian defcribes gholls^
with all the particularity of one who had feen
and converfed with them, and whofe imagina-
tion was full of the imprefTion they had left upon
it. He calls up thofe awful and tremendous
ideas which the

. — —Simulacra modis pallentia mirls,

are fitted to raife in the human mind -, and
which, in Shakefi)eare's ftyle, " harrow up the
*' foul." Crugal's ghoft, in particular, in the
beginning of the fecond book of Fingal, may
vie with any appearance of this kind, defcribed
by any epic or tragic poet whatever. Mod
poets would have contented themfelves with tell-
ing us, that he refcmblcd, in every particular,
the living Crural ; that his form and drefs were
the fame, only his face more pale and fad -, and
that he bore the mark of the wound by which
he fell. But Offian fets before our eyes a fpirit
from the invifible world, diftinguilhed by all
thofe features, which a ftrong aftoniflied imagi-
nation would give to a ghod. *' A dark-red
" ftream of fire comes down from the hill.
" Crugal fat upon the beam j he that lately fell
«* by the hand of Swaran, flriving in the battle
«' of heroes. His face is like the beam of the
<« fetting moon. His robes are of the clouds of

« the

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. ^^51

" the hill. His eyes are like two decaying
" flames. Dark is the wound of his bread.—
" The liars dim-twinkled through his form ;
" and his voice was like the found of a diftanc
" Itream." The circumilance of the ftars being
beheld, " dim-twinkling through his form," is
wonderfully pifturefque j and conveys the mod
lively impreflion of his thin and fliadowy fub-
ftance. The attitude in which he is afterwards
placed, and the fpeech put into his mouth, are
full of that folemn and awful fublimity, which
fuits the fubjecfr. " Dim, and in tears, he flood
and (tretched his pale hand over the hero.
Faintly he raifed his feeble voice, like the gale
of the reedy Lego. — My ghoft, O Connal ! is
on my native hills j but my corfe is on the
fands of Ullin. Thou (halt never talk with
Crugal, or find his lone fteps in the heath. I
am light as the blaft of Cromlaj and I move
like the fhadow of mifl. Connal, fon of
Colgar ! 1 fee the dark cloud of death. It
hovers over the plains of Lena. The fons of
green Erin (hall fall. Remove from the field
of ghofts. — Like the darkened moon he re-
tired in the midil of the whiftling blaft."
Several other appearances of fpirits might
be pointed out, as among the moft fublime paf-
fages of Oflian's poetry. The circumftances of

them

352 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

them are confiderably diverfified j and the
fcenery always fuited to the occafion. " Ofcar
" flowly afcends the hill. The meteors of night
" fet on the heath before him. A diftant tor-
** rent faintly roars. Unfrequent blafts rulh
<f through aged oaks. The half-enlightened
*' moon finks dim and red behind her hill,
<* Feeble voices are heard on the heath. Ofcar

" drew his fword." Nothing can prepare the

fancy more happily for the awful fcene that is
to follow. " Trenmor came from his/ hill, at
«' the voice of his mighty fon. A cloud, like
« the fteed of the flranger, fupported his airy
" limbs. His robe is of the mifl of Lano,
»' that brings death to the people. His fword
" is a green meteor, half-extinguiihed. His
" face is without form, and dark. He fighed
«' thrice over the hero : And thrice, the winds
" of the night roared around. Many were his

«« words to Ofcar He flowly vaniflied, like

" a mifl: that melts on the funny hill." To
appearances of this kind, we can find no paral-
lel among the Greek or Roman poets. They
bring to mind that noble defcription in the book
of Job : " In thoughts from the vifions of
" the night, when deep fleep falleth on men,
*' fear came upon me, and trembling, which
*« made all my bones to Ihake. Then a fpiric

« pafled

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 35^

*' pafled before my face. The hair of my fiedi
" flood up. It flood flill J but I could not dif-
** cern the form thereof. An image was before
" mine eyes. There was filencci and I heard a
*' voice — Shall mortal man be more juft than
« God*?'*

As Ofllan's fupernatural beings are defcribed
with a furprifing force of imagination, fo they
are introduced with propriety. We have only
three ghofls in Fingal : That of Crugal, which
comes to warn the hoft of impending deftruc-
tion, and to advifc them to fave themfelves by
retreat i that of Evirallin, the fpoufe of OfTian,
which calls him to rife and refcue their fon from
danger i and that of Agandecca, which, jufl
before the lafl engagement with Swaran, moves
Fingal to pity, by mourning for the approach-
ing deftruction of her kinfmen and people. In
the other poems, ghofls fometimes appear when
invoked to foretell futurity j frequently, accord-
ing to the notions of thefe times, they come as
forerunners of misfortune or death, to thofe
whom they vifit ; fometimes they inform their
friends at a diflance, of their own death i and
fometimes they are introduced to heighten the
fcenery on fome great and folemn occafion.

* Job, iv. 13—17.

Vol. II. A a "A hun-

354 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" A hundred oaks burn to the wind'; and faint
" light grleams over the heath. The diolls of
" Ardven pafs through the beam ; and fhew
'« their din?, and diilant forms. Comala is half-
«f unfeen on her meteor; and Hidallan is fullen
" and dim."——" The awful faces of other
" times, looked from the clouds of Cr6na."—
" Fercuth ! I faw the ghoft of night. Silent he
" ftood on that bank; his robe of mill flew Oti
«« the wind. I could' behold his tears. ' An aged
" man he feemed, and full of thought.'*

The ghofts of ftrangers mingle not with thofe
of the natives. " She is feen ; but not like the
" daughters of the hill. Her robes are from the
" ftrangers land ; and fhe is ftill alone." When
the ghoft of one whom we had formerly known
is introduced, the pt-opriety of the* living cha-
radter is ftill preferved. This is remarkable in
the appearance of Calmar*s ghoft, in the poem
entitled The Death of Cuthullin. He feems to
forebode Cuthullin's death, and to beckon him
to his cave. Cuthullin reproaches him for fup-
pofing that he could be intimidated by fucli
prognoftics. " Why doft thou bend thy dark
** eyes on me, ghoft of the car-borne Calhnar ?
" Would'ft thou frighten mc, O Matha's fon !
«^ from the battles of Cormac ? Thy hand was
'^ not f<reble in war; neither was thy voice fo
7 «f peace.

.ON -THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 3^5

'f peace. How art thou changed, chief of
'' Lara! if now thou doft advife to fly! Retire
*' tho|^ to thy cave : Thou art not Calmar'^s
** ghoft : He delighted in battle i and his arm
" was like the thunder of heaven." Calmar
makes no return to this feeming reproach : But^
*' He retired in his blaft with joy j for he had.
" heard the voice of his praife." This is pre-
cifely the ghoft of Achilles in Homer j who,
notwithftanding all the diffatisfaftion he exprefles
with his ftate in the region of the dead, as foon
as he had heard his fon Neoptolemus praifed for
his gallant behaviour, flrode away with filentjoy
to rejoin the reft of the fhades *.

It is a great advantage of Oflian*s mythology,
that it is not local and temporary, like that of
moft other ancient poets ; which of courfe is apt
to feem ridiculous, after the fuperftitions have
paiTed away on which it was founded. OfTian's
mythology is, to fpeak fo, the mythology of
human nature ; for it is founded on what has
been the popular belief, in all ages and coun7
tries, and under all forms of religion, concern-
ing the appearances of departed fpirits. Homer's
machinery is always lively and amufingj but far
from being always fupported .with proper dig-

* OJyfT. Lib. II.

A a 2 nity.

356 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

nity. The indecent fquabbles among his gods,
furely do no honour to epic poetry. Whereas
OfTian's machinery has dignity upon all occa-
fions. It is indeed a dignity of the dark and
awful kind j but this is proper ; becaufe coinci-
dent with the ftrain and fpirit of the poetry.
A light and gay mythology, like Homer's, would
have been perfedly unfuitable to the fubjefts
on which OfTian's genius was employed. But
though his machinery be always folemn, it is
not, however, always dreary or difmal ; it is
enlivened, as much as the fubjed would permit,
by thofc pleafant and beautiful appearances,
which he fometimes introduces, of the fpirits of
the hill. Thefe are gentle fpirits; defcending on
fun-beams i fair- moving on the plain j their
forms white and bright j their voices fweet j and
their vifits to men propitious. The greatefl
praife that can be given, to the beauty of a
living woman, is to fay, " She is fair as the
" ghoft of the hill j when it moves in a fun-
*' beam at noon, over the filence of Morven."
** The hunter fhall hear my voice from his
" booth. He fliall fear, but love my voice.
" For fweetr fhall my voice be for my friends;
" for pleafant were they to me."

Besides ghofts, or the fpirits of departed
men, we find in Offian fome inftances of other

kinds

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 357

kinds of machinery. Spirits of a fuperior na-
ture to ghofls are fometimes alluded to, which
have power to embroil the deep; to call forth
winds and ftorms, and pour them on the land of
the ftranger; to overturn forefts, and to fend,
death among the people. We have prodigies
too J a (hower of blood ; and when fome difaf-
tcr is befalling at a diftance, the found of death
heard on the firings of OfTian's harp : all per-
fedly confonant, not only to the peculiar ideas
of northern nations, but to the general current
of a fuperftitious imagination in all countries.
The defcription of Fingal's airy hall, in the
poem called Bcrrathon, and of the afcent of
Malvina into it, deferves particular notice, as
remarkably noble and magnificent. But above
all, the engagement of Fingal with the fpirit of
Loda, in Carric-thura, cannot be mentioned
without admiration. I forbear tranfcribing the
paflage, as it muft have drawn the attention of
every one who has read the works of Offian,
The undaunted courage of Fingal, oppofed to
all the terrors of the Scandinavian God ; the ap-
pearance and the fpeech of that awful fpirit j the
wound which he receives, and the Ihriek which
he fends forth, " as rolled into himfelf, he rofe
<* upon the wind ;" are full of the mod amazing
and terrible majefty. I know no palTagc more
A a 3 fublimc

^58 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

fublime In the writings of any uninfpired au-
thor. The fiflion is calculated to aggrandize
the hero j which it do^s to a high degree j nor
is it fo unnatural or wild a fidion, as might at
'firft be thought. According to the notions of
thofe times, fupernatural beings were material,
and, confequently, vulnerable! ' The fpirit of
ibda was not acknov/ledged as a deity by Fin-
gal j he did not worihip at the ftone of his
^owerj he plainly confidcred him as the God of
liis enemies onlyj as a local deity, whofe domi-
'fiioh extended no farther than to the regions
■where he was worlliippedi who had, therefore,
no title to threaten him, and no claim to his
jftibmifiion. We know there are pt)etical prece-
dents of great authority, for fictions fully as
cxtravagaht i' 'and' tf Honier' be forgiven for
mailing Diomea attack &hd' Wound in battle, the
gods whom that chief himfelf worfliipped, Oflian
fiirely is pardonable for making his hero fuperior
to 'the god of a foreign territory *. '

Oi NOTWITH-

-qL •, • ' .^ . ■■- ^- ;■' c^^>i.^^ ■- _ -.

,• The fcene of this encounter of Fin^al ^v,ith the fpirit of
Loka is laid in Iniftore/or the iflahd^ of'Of kh6y ; ^an<i in the
defcription of Fingal's landing there, it is. faid,' " Arock
**, ,bf iVf s along the coaft with all its ecl>oing woqd. On the
*' top is the circle of Loda, with the moify ftone of power."
^■confirmation' bf Offiaft's topogr^iphy, it is proper to acquaint
jj^^^rpader, di^tir^tlvcfeiflands, us Ihave__been well informed,
tier^arc many pillars, and circles of ilones, ftill remaining,
'^•^••^■*''^* , known

ON THE POEMS, OF OSSIAN. 359

.■■^^Notwithstanding the poetical advantages
which I have afcribed to Oflian's machinery, I
aqknowledge ,^t would, hav;e been iriuch more
beautiful and perfe6lj had the autI:^or dircovere^
fome knowledge of a Supreme Being. Although
ills filence on this head has been accounted fo;-
by the learned and ingenious trpnflator in a very
probable manner, yet ftill it muft be held a con-
fiderable difadvantage to the poetry. For the
mod auguft and lofty ideas that can embellilli
•poetry arcL derived from, thet belief of a divin^e
admirtiilratjon of the univerfe : And hence the
invocation of a Supreme Being, or at leall of
fome fuperior powers vvhp are conceived as pre-
fiding over, human affairs, the folemnities of
.religious worfliip, prayers preferred, and affift-
ance implored on critical occafions, appear

known by the name of the ftones and circles of Loda, or Lo-
•denV tOAvhrch fome degree of fuperftitious regard is annexed
-to this day. Thefe iflands, until the year 1468, made a part
of tl\c Danilh dominions. Their ancient language, cf whfch
t"here are yet fome remains among the natives, is called the
i^Iorfe; and 'is a dialedt, not of the Celtic, but of the Scandi-
. navian tongue. The manners and the fuperftitions of the in-
habitants are quite diflind from thofe of the Highlands and
weftern ifles of Scotland. Their ancient fongs, too, are of a
different ftrain and charatfter, turning upon magiciU incanta-
tions and evocations from the dead, which were the favour' r.;-
fubjects of the old Runic poetry. They have many tradi' i ":
among them, of wars in foi mer times with the iuhabiu'
the weftern illands.

A a 4 ,

36o A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

with great dignity in the works of almoft all
poets as chief ornaments of their compofitions.
The abfence of all fuch religious ideas fronn
OfTian's poetry, is a fenfible blank in it j the
more to be regretted, as we can eafily imagine
what an illuftrious figure they would have made
under the management of fuch a genius as his;
and how finely they would have been adapted to
many fituations which occur in his works.

After fo particular an examination of Fin-
gal, it were needlefs to enter into as full a dif-
cuflTion of the condu<5l of Temora, the other
Epic Poem. Many of the fame obfervations,
efpecially >yith regard to the great charafteriftics
of heroic poetry, apply to both. The high
merit, however, of Temora, requires that we
ihould not pafs it by without feme remarks.

The fcene of Temora, as of Fingal, is laid
in Ireland ; and the adtion is of a pofterior date.
The fubjefl is, an expedition of the hero, to de-
throne and punifh a bloody ufurper, and to
reftorc the pofTefiion of the kingdom to the pof-
terity of the lawful prince ; an undertaking
worthy of the juftice and heroifm of the great
Fingal. The action is one, and complete. The
poem opens with the defcent of Fingal on the
coafl", and the confukation held among the
chiefs of the enemy. The murder of the young

prince

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 361

prince Cormac, which was the caufe of the war,
being antecedent to the epic action, is introduced
with great propriety as an epifode in the firfl:
book. In the progrefs of the poem, three battles
are defcribed, which rife in their importance
above one another; the fuccefs is various, and
the iflue for fome time doubtful i till at laft,
Fingal brought into diftrefs, by the wound of
his great general Gaul, and the death of his fon
Fillan, afiTumes the command himfelf, and hav-
ing flain the Irifh king in fingle combat, reftores
the rightful heir to his throne.

Temora has perhaps lefs fire than the other
epic poem j but in return it has more variety,
more tendernefs, and more magnificence. The
reigning idea, fo often prefented to us of
*« Fingal in the laft of his fields," is venerable
and afFedingj nor could any more noble con-
clufion be thought of, than the aged hero, after
fo many fuccefsful atchievements, taking his
leave of battles, and with all the folemnities of
thofe times refigning his fpear to his fon. The
events are lefs crouded in Temora than in Fin-
gal; adlions and characters are more particularly
difplayedi we are let into the tranfadions of
both hofls J and informed of the adventures of
the night as well as of the day. The ftill pathe-
tic, and the romantic fcenery of fcveral of the

night

302 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

night adventures, fo remarkably fuited to Oirian*s
genius, occafion a fine diverfity in the poem;
and are happily contrafted with the military
operations of the day.

In moft of our author's poems, the horrors
of war are foftened by intermixed fcenes of love
and friendfhip. In Fingal, thefe are introduced
as epifodes j in Temora, we have an incident of
this nature wrought into the body of the pieces
in the adventure of Cathmor and Sulmalla. This
forms one of the moft confpicuous .beauties of
that poem. The diftrefs of Sulmalla, difguifed
and unknown among ftrangers, her tender and
anxious concern fur the fafety of Cathmor, her
dream, and her melting remembrance of the
land of her fathers.; Cathmor's emotion when
he firft difcov.^rs./iher>ihi<s ftruggles to conceal
and fupprefs his paiTilon, ) left it ftiould unman
him in the midft of war, though " his foul
<« poured forth in fecret, when he beheld her
" fearful eye;" and the laft interview between
them, when overcome by her tendernefs, he lefs
her know he had difcovered her, and confefles
his paflTion ; are ail wrought up with the moft
cxquifite fenfibilicy and delicacy.

Besides the characters which appeared in
Fingal, feveral new ones . are here introduced;
and though^ as they^ are^^ail^ the chara6lers of

warriors^

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 363

warriors, bravery is the predominant feature,
they are neverthelefs diverfified in a fenfible and
ftriking manner. Foldath, for inftance, the
general of Cathmor, exhibits the perfed pi(5ture
of a favage chieftain : Bold, and daring, but
prefumptuous, cruel, and overbearing. He is
diftinguiftied, on his firfl appearance, as the
friend of the tyrant Cairbar ; " His ftride is
" haughty; his red eye rolls in wrath." In his
perfon and whole deportment, he is contrafted
with the mild and wife Hidalla, another leader
of the fame army, on whofe humanity and gen-
tlenefs he looks with great contempt. He pro-
fefledly delights in ftrife and bloods He infults
over the fallen. He is imperious in his coun-
fels, and factious, when they are not followed.
He is unrelenting in all his fchemes of revenge,
even to the length, of denying the funeral fong
to the dead; y\^hich, from the injury thereby
done to their ghofts, was, in thofe days, confi-
dered as the greateft barbarity. Fierce to the
laft, he comforts himfelf in his dying moments,
with thinking that his ghoft fhall often leave its
blaft to rejoice over the graves of thofe he had
flain. Yet Offian, ever prone to the pathetic,
has contrived to throw into his account of the
death, even 0/ this man, fome tender , circum-

flances:

364 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

fiances j by the moving defcription of his daugh/-
ter Dardulena, the laft of his race.

The character of Foldath tends much to exalt
that of Cathmor, the chief commander, which
is diftinguifhed by the mod humane virtues. He
abhors all fraud and cruelty, is famous for his
hofpitality to ftrangers ; open to every generous
fentiment, and to every foft and companionate
feeling. He is fo amiable as to divide the read-
er's attachment between him and the hero of
the poem j though our author has artfully ma-
naged it fo, as to make Cathmor himfelf indi^
redly acknowledge Fingal's fuperiority, and to
appear fomewhat apprehenfive of the event,
after the death of Fillan, which he knew would
call forth Fingal in all his might. It is very
remarkable, that although Offian has introduced
into his poems three complete heroes, Cuthullin,
Cathmor, and Fingal, he has, however, {en-
fibly diftinguifhed each of their charafters.
Cuthullin is particularly honourable; Cathmor
particularly amiable j Fingal wife and great,
retaining an afcendant peculiar to himfelf in
whatever light he is viewed.

But the favourite figure in Temora, and the
one moft highly finiflied, is Fillan. His cha-
radler is of that fort, for which Offian fhews a

particular

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 365

particular fondnefs; an eager, fervent young
warrior, fired with all the impatient enthufiafm
for military glory, peculiar to that time of life.
He had fketched this in the defcription of his
own fon Ofcar ; but as he has extended it more
fully in Fillan, and as the charadler is fo confo-
nant to the epic ftrain, though, fo far as I
remember, not placed in fuch a confpicuous
light by any other epic poet, it may be worth
while to attend a little to Offian's management of
it in this inftance.

Fillan was the youngeft of all the fons of
Fingali younger, it is plain, than his nephew
Ofcar, by whofe fame and great deeds in war,
we may naturally fuppofe his ambition to have
been highly ftimulated. Withal, as he is
younger, he is defcribed as more rafli and fiery.
His firft appearance is foon after Ofcar's death,
when he was employed to watch the motions of
the foe by night. In a converfation with his
brother Offian, on that occafion, we learn that
it was not long fince he began to lift the fpear.
" Few are the marks of my fword in battle ;
«' but my foul is fire." He is with feme diffi-
culty reftrained by Offian from going to attack
the enemy j and complains to him, that his
father had never allowed him any opportunity
of fignalizing his valour, ** The king hath not

" remarked

^66 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" i-emarked my fword j I go forth with the
«« croud i I return without my fame." Soon
after, when Fingal according to cuftom was to
appoint one of his chiefs to command the army,
and each was Handing forth, and putting in his
claim to this honour, Fillan is prefented in the
following moft piclurefque and natural attitude.
" On his fpear ftood the fon of Clatho, in the
<f wandering of his locks. Thrice he raifed his
" eyes to Fingal ; his voice thrice failed him as
<' he fpoke. Fillan could not boaft of battles,
<f at once he ftrode away. Bent over a diftanc
*' flream he flood -, the tear hung in his eye.
<' He flruck, at times, the thiflle's head, with
" his inverted fpear." Nolefs natural and beau-
tiful is the defcription of Fingal's paternal
emotion on this occafion. " Nor is he unfeen
" of Fingal, Side-long he beheld his fon. He
" beheld him with burfting joy. He hid the
" big tear with his locks, and turned amidft his
'^ crouded foul." The command, for that day,
being given to Gaul, Fillan rulhes amidft the
thickeft of the foe, laves Gaul's life, who is
wounded by a random arrow, and diftinguiflies
himfelf lb in battle, that " the days of old
" return on Fingal's mind, as he beholds the
" renown of his fon. As the fun rejoices from
** the cloud, over the tree his beams have raifed,

" whilfl:

ON THE POEM^ OF OSSIAN. 367

« whilft it fliakes its lonely head on the heath,
,** fo joyful is the king over Fillan." Sedate
however and wife, he mixes the praife which
he beftows on him with fome reprehenfion of
his rafhnefs, " My fon, I faw thy deeds, and
f' my foul was glad. Thou art brave, fon of
«' Clatho, but headlong in the flifife. So did
*' not Fingal advance, though he never feared a
*' foe. Let thy people be a ridge behind thee-j
." they are thy ftrength in the field* Then flialc
:*« thou be long renowned,, and behold tlie
,". .|:ornbs of thy fathers."

On the next day, the greateft and the hd of

JFillan's life, the charge is committed to him of

.leading on the hoft to battle. Fingal's fpeech to

his troops on this occafion is full of noble fenti-

cmentj and where he recommends his fon to

< their care, extremely touching. " A young

" beam is before you ; few .are his fteps to war.

,5/ They are few, but he ,is valiant j defend, my

..fi: darkyhaired fon. Bringrhtm back with joy^j

,f*. hereafter he may (land alone. His form

:** is like his fathers i his foul is, a flame of , their

*' fire." When the battle begins, th^ poet pu|s

'forth his ftrength to defcribe the exploits of the

■ young hero i who, at laft encoujitering and
killing with his own hand , Foldath the opponte

.general, attains' the pinnacle of glory. In what

■ ' follows.

SSB A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

follows, when the fate of Fillan is drawing near,
Oflian, if any where, excells himfelf. Foldath
being flain, and a general rout begun, there
was no refource left to the enemy but in the
great Cathmor hinnfelf, who in this extremity
defcends from the hill, where, according to the
cuftom of thofe princes, he furveyed the battle.
Obferve how this critical event is wrought up by
the poet. *' Wide fpreading over echoing
*' Lubar, the flight of Bolga is rolled along.
<* Fillan hung forward on their fteps j and
" ftrewed the heath with dead. Fingal rejoiced

•' over his fon. Blue-fhielded Cathmor rofe.

*' Son of Alpin, bring the harp ! Give

«' Fillan's praife to the wind ; raife high his
" praife in my hall, while yet he fhines in war.
*' Leave, blue-eyed Clatho ! leave thy hall ;
'* behold that early beam of thine ! The hoft is

" withered in its courfe. No farther look

<« it is dark— light-trembling from the harp,
« ftrike, virgins ! ftrike the found." The fud-
den interruption, and fufpenfe of the narration
on Cathmor^s rifing from his hill, the abrupt
burfting into the praife of Fillan, and the paf-
fionate apoftrophe to his mother Clatho, arc
admirable efforts of poetical art, in order to
intereft us in Fillan's danger ; and the whole is
heightened by the immediately following fimile>

one

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 369

one of the moft: magnificent and fublime thac is
to be met with in any poet, and which if it had
been found in Homer, would have been the
frequent fubjefl of admiration to critics; " Fil-
** Ian is like a fpirit of heaven, that defcends
" from the flvirt of his blaft. The troubled
** ocean feels his fteps, as he ftrides from wave
'' to wave. His path kindles behind him .
" iOands fhake their heads on the heaving
" feas."

But the poet's art is not yet exhaufted. The
fall of this noble young warrior, or, in OfTian's
flyle, the extinftion of this beam of heaven,
could not be rendered too interefting and af-
fe6ling. Our attention is naturally drawn to-
wards Fingal. He beholds from his hill the
fifing of Cathmor, and the danger of his fon.
But what fhall he do ? « Shall Fingal rife to his
" aid, and take the fword of Luno ? What
" then fliould become of thy fame, fon of
*f whice-bofomed Clatho ? Turn not thine eyes
" from Fingal, daughter of Iniftore ! I fhall
" not quench thy early beam. — No cloud of
" mine fhall rife, my fon, upon thy foul of
** fire." Struggling between concern for the
fame, and fear for the fafety of his fon, he
withdraws from the figlTt of the engagement ;
and difpatches Oflian in hafte to the field.

Vol. II, B b with

2JO A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

with this affetftionate and delicate injundion :
" Father of Ofcar !" addrefling him by a title
which on this occafion has the higheO: pro-
priety, " Father of Ofcar ! lift the fpear ; defend
" the young in arms. But conceal thy fleps
*' from Fillan's eyes : He muft not know that I
*' doubt his fteel." Offian arrived too late.
But unwilling to defcribe Filian vanquifhed, the
poet fupprefles all the circumftances of the com-
bat v/ith Cathmors and only fhews us the dying
hero. VVe fee him animated to the end with the
fame martial and ardent fpirit i breathing his laft
in bitter regret for being fo early cut off from
the field of glory, " Offian, lay me in that
" hollow rock. Raife no (lone above me, left
*^ one fhould afl<; about my fame. I am fallen in
" the firft of my fields j fallen without renown.
" Let thy voice alone, fend joy to my flying
" foul. Why fhould the bard know where
*« dwells the early-fallen Filian." He who after
tracing the circumftances of tliis ftory, fhall
deny that our bard is pofTefTed of high fentiment
and high art, muft be ftrangely prejudiced in-
deed. Let him read the ftory of Pallas in Virgil,
which is of a fimilar kind ; and after all the
praife he may juftly beftovv on the elegant and
finiflied defcription of that amiable author, let
him fay which of the two poets unfold moft of
I the

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 371

the human foul. I waive infilling on any more
of the particulars in Temora ; as my aim is
rather to lead the reader into the genius and
fpirit of OfTian's poetry, than to dwell on all his
beauties.

The judgment and art difcovered in con-
ducing works of fuch length as Fingal and
Temora, diftinguifli them from the other poems
in this colleflion. The fmaller pieces, however,
contain particular beauties no lefs eminent.
They are hiilorical poems, generally of the
elegiac kind j and plainly difcover themfelves to
be the work of the fame author. One con-
fident face of manners is every where prefented
to us J one fpirit of poetry reigns j the mafterly
hand of Offian appears throughout s the fame
rapid and animated flyle j the' fame ftrong
colouring of imagination, and the fame glowing
fenfibility of heart. Befides the unity which
belongs to the compofitions of one man> there is
moreover a certain unity of fubjed, which very
happily connetfls all thefe poems. They form
the poetical hiftory of the age of Fingal. The
fame race of heroes whom we had met with in
the greater poems, Cuthullin, Ofcar, Connal,
and Gaul, return again upon the ftage ; and
Fingal himfelf is always the principal figure,
prefcnted on every occafion, with equal mag-
B b 2 nificcnce,

372 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

nificencc, nay rifing upon us to the laft. The
circumftances of OiTian's old age and blindnefs,
his furviving all his friends, and his relating
their great exploits to Malvina, the fpoufe or
miftrefs of his beloved fon Ofcar, furnilh the
fined poetical fituations that fancy could devife
for that tender pathetic which reigns in OfTian's
poetry.

O.v each of thefe poems, there might be
room for feparate obfervations, with reg?.rd to
the condudl and difpofition of the incidents, as
well as to the beauty of the defcriptions and
fentiments. Carthon is a regular and highly
finifned piece. The main ftory is very properly
introduced by ClefTammor's relation of the ad-
venture of his youth J and this introducflion is
finely heightened by Fingal's fong of mourning
over Moina ; in which OITian, ever fond of
doing honour to his father, has contrived to
diftinguiili him, for being an eminent poet, as
well as warrior. Fingal's fong upon this occa-
fion, when " his thoufand Bards leaned forwards
** from their feats, to hear the voice of the
« King," is inferior to no pafifage in the whole
book; and with great judgment put in his
mouth, as the ferioufnefs, no lefs than the
fublimity of the ftrain^ is peculiarly fuited to
the Hero's charader. In Darthula, are afTem-

bled

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 373

bled almoft all the tender images that can touch
the heart of man ; Friendfhip, love, the afTec-
tions of parents, fons, and brothers, the diftrefs
of the aged, and the unavailing bravery of the
young. The beautiful addrefs to the moon,
with which the poem opens, and the tranfition
from thence to the fubjecl, mofl: happily prepare
the mind for that train of affedling events that is
to follow. The ftory is regular, dramatic, in-
terefling to the laft. He who can read it with-
out emotion may congratulate himfelf, if he
pleafes, upon being completely armed againfl:
fympathetic forrow. As Fingal had no occafion
of appearing in the a6lion of this poem, Offian
makes a very artful tranfition from his narration,
to what was pafTing in the hails of Selma. The
found heard there on the ftrings of his harp,
the concern which Fingal (hows on hearing it,
and the invocation of the ghofts of their fathers,
to receive the heroes falling in a diftant land,
are introduced with great beauty of imagination
to increafe the folemnity, and to diverfify the
fcenery of the poem,

Carric-thura is full of the mofl fublime
dignity ; and has this advantage of being more
cheerful in the fubjecl, and more happy in the
cataflrophe than moft of the other poems :
Though tempered at the fame time with epilbdes
B b 3 iii

374 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

in that flrain of tender melancholy, which feems
to have been the great delight of OlTian and the
Bards of his age. Lathnnon is peculiarly diftin-
guilhed, by high generofity offentiment. This
is Carried fo far, particularly in the refufal of
Gaul, on one fide, to take the advantage of a
fieeping foe i and of Lathmon, on the other, to
overpower by numbers the two young warriors,
as to recall into one's mind the manners of
chivalry ; fome refemblance to which may per-
haps be fuggefled by other incidents in this col-
letftion of poems. Chivalry, however, took rife
in an age and country too remote from thofe of
Oflian, to admit the fufpicion that the one could
have borrowed any thing from the other. So
far as chivalry had any real exiftence, the fame
military enthufiafm, which gave birth to it in
the feudal times, might, in the days of Oflian,
that is, in the infancy of a rifing ftate, through
the operation of the fame caufe, very naturally
produce effeds of the fame kind on the minds
and manners of men. So far as chivalry was an
ideal fyftem exifting only in romance, it will
not be thought furpriting, when v,'e reflefl
on the account before given of the Celtic Bards,
that this imaginary refinement of heroic manners
fhould be found among them, as much, at
lead, as among the TrobadoreSj or ftrolling Pro-
vencal

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 375

venial Bards, in the loth or nth century;
whole Tongs, it is laid, firft gave rife to thofe
romantic ideas of heroifm, which for fo long a
time enchanted Europe *. Offian's heroes have
all the gallantry and generofity of thofe fabulous
knights, without their extravagance; and his
love fcenes have native tendernefs, without any
mixture of thofe forced and unnatural conceits
which abound in the old romances. The ad-
ventures related by our poet which refemble the
mod thofe of romance, concern women who
follow their lovers to war difguifed in the armour
of men i and thefe are fo managed as to pro-
duce, in the difcovery, feveral of the mofb ince-
refting fituations; one beautiful inftance of which
may be feen in Carric-thura, and another in Cal-
thon and Colmal.

OiTHON'A. prefents a fituation of a different
nature. In the abfence of her lover Gaul, fhe
had been carried off and ravifhed by Dun-
rommath. Gaul difcovers the place where Ihe
is kept concealed, and comes to revenge her.
The meeting of the two lovers, the fentiments
and the behaviour of Oithona on that occafion,
are dcfcribed witli fuch tender and exquifice pro-
priety, as does the greateil honour both to tlie

* ViJ. Plucitus de origine fabularuni Romaneniiu n.

li b 4 art

37^ A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

art and to the delicacy of our author : and
would have been admired in any poet of the
moft refined age. The conduct of Croma muft
flrike every reader as remarkably judicious and
beautiful. We are to be prepared for the death
cf Malvina, which is related in the fucceeding
poem. She is therefore introduced in perfon j
^^ flie has heard a voice in a dream -, flie feels
*' the fluttering of her foul j" and in a mod
moving lamentation addrelTed to her beloved
Qfcar, fhe fings her ov;n Death fong. Nothing
could be calculated with more art to footh and
comfort her, than the ftory which OITian relates.
In the young and brave Fovargormo, another
Ofcar is introduced j his praifes are fungi and
the happinefs is fet before her of thofe who die
in their youth, " when their renown is around
^f them i before the feeble behold them in the
^« hall, and fmile at their trembling hands."

But no where does OITian's genius appear to
greater advantage, than in Berrathon, which is
reckoned the conclufion of his fongs, " The laft
*^ found of the voice of Cona."

Qualis olor noto poficurus littore vitam,
Ingemit, et macftis mulcens concentibus auras
Prsefago quasritur venientia funera cantu.

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 377

TftE whole train of ideas is admirably fuited
to the fubje<5l. Every thing is full of that invi-
fible world, into which the aged Bard believes
himfelf now ready to enter. The airy hall of
Fingal prefents itfelf to his view j " he fees the
*' cloud that fhall receive his ghoftj he beholds
** the nnill that iLall form his robe when he ap-
^^ pears on his hill j" and all the natural objecfls
around him feem to carry the prefages of death.
*^ The thiille fhakes its beard to the wind. The
" flower hangs its heavy head; it feems to fay,
" I am covered with the drops of heaven i the
" time of my departure is near, and the blaft
*' that fhall fcatter my leaves." Malvina's death
is hinted to him in the mod delicate manner by
the fon of Alpin. His lam.entation over her, her
apotheofis, or afcent to the habitation of heroes,
and the introdu6lion to the ftory which follows
from the mention which Oflian fuppofes the fa-
ther of Malvina to make of him in the hall of
Fingal, are all in the higheft fpirit of poetry.
" And doft thou remember Offian, O Tofcar
" fon of Comloch ? The battles of our youth
*' were many ; our fvvords went together to the
♦* field." Nothing could be more proper than
to end his fongs with recording an exploit of the
father of that Malvina, of whom his heart was
now fo fullj and who, from firft to lafl:, had

been

378 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

been fuch a favourite obje6t throughout all his
poems.

The fcene of moft of OfTian's poems is laid in
Scotland, or in the coaft of Ireland oppofite to
the territories of Fingal. When the fcene is in
Ireland, we perceive no change of manners from
thofe of OfTian's native counrry. For as Ireland
was undoubtedly peopled with Celtic tribes, the
language, culloms, and religion of both nations
were the fame. They had been feparated from
One another by migration, only a few genera-
tions, as it fhould feem, before our poet's age;
and they ftill maintained a clofe and frequent
intercourfe. But when the poet relates the expe-
ditions of any of his heroes to the Scandinavian
coafl:, or to the iflands of Orkney, which were
then part of the Scandinavian territory, as he
does in Carric-thura, Sulmalla of Lumon, and
Cathloda, the cafe is quite altered. Thofe coun-
tries were inhabited by nations of the Teutonic
defcent, who in their manners and religious rites
differed widely from the Celtse j and it is curious
and remarkable, to find this difference clearly
pointed out in the poems of Offian. His de-
fcriptions bear the native marks of one who was
prefent in the expeditions which he relates, and
who defcribes what he had feen with his own
eyes. No fooner are we carried to Lochlin, or

tho

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 379

the iflands of Iniftore, than we perceive that we
are in a foreign region. New objefls begin to
appear. We meet every where with the ftones
and circles of Loda, that is, Odin, the great
Scandinavian deity. We meet with the divina-
tions and inchantments, for which it is well
known thofe northern nations were early famous.
*^ There, mixed with the murmur of waters,
" rofe the voice of aged men, who called the
f* forms of night to aid them in their war;"
whilft the Caledonian cliiefs who affifted them,
are defcribed as (landing at a diftance, heedlefs
of their rites. That ferocity of manners which
diftinguidied thofe nations, alfo becomes confpi-
cuous. In the combats of their chiefs there is a
peculiar favagenefsj even their women are bloody
and fierce. The fpirir, and the very ideas of
Regner Lodbrog, that northern fcalder whom I
formerly quoted, occur to us again. ** The
*' hawks," Offian makes one of the Scandinavian
chiefs fay, " rufh from all their winds; they
*' are wont to trace my courfe. We rejoiced
" three days above the dead, and called the
** hawks of heaven. They came from all their
" winds, to feaft on the foes of Annir."

Dismissing now the feparate confideration
of any of our author's works, I proceed to make
fome obfervations on his manner of writing,

under

38o A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

under the general heads of Defcription, Imagery,
and Sentimenc.

A POET of original genius is always diftin-
guiihed by his talenc for defcription*. A fecond
rate writer difcerns nothing new or peculiar in
the object he means to defcribe. His concep-
tions of it are vague and loofe j his expreflions
feeble; and of ccurfe the objedl is prefented to
us indiftinclly and as through a cloud. But a
true poet makes us imagine that we fee it before
our eyes: he catches the diftinguifhing features j
he gives it the colours of life and reality; he
places it in fuch a light that a painter could copy
after him. This happy talent is chiefly owing
to a lively imagination, which firH; receives a
flrong imprelTion of the objedt; and then, by a
proper feledlion of capital pi(flurefque circum-
ftances employed in defcribing it, tranfmits that
impreffion in its full force to the imaginations of
others. That OlTian pofTeffes this defcriptive power
in a high degree, we have a clear proof from the
efFeifl which his defcriptions produce upon the
imaginations of thofe who read him with any
degree of attention and tafte. Few poets are
more intereRing. We contraft an intimate ac-

* See the rules of poetical defcription excellently illuftrated
hy lord Kaims, in his Elements of Criticifm, vol. iii. chap. 2U
Of narration and defcription.

quaintance

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 381

quaintance with his principal heroes. The cha-
ra(5tcrs, the manners, the face of the country
become familiar: we even think we could draw
the figure of his ghofts : In a word, whilft: read-
ing hinn we are tranf^orted as into a new region,
and dwell among his objedls as if they were all
real.

It were ealy to point out fcveral inftances of
exquifite painting in the works of our author.
Such, for inftance, as the fcenery with which
Temora opens, and the attitude in which Cair-
bar is there prefented to us ; the defcription of
the young prince Cormac, in the fame book;
and the ruins of Balclutha in Cartho. " I have
*' feen the walls of Balclutha, but they were de-
" folate. The fire had refounded in the halls j
" and the voice of the people is heard no more,
" The ftream of Clutha was removed from its
« place by the fall of the walls. The thiftle
*f Ihook there its lonely head : The mofs v/hiftled
" to the wind. The fox looked out from the
" windows ; the rank grafs of the wall waved
*« round his head. Defolate is the dwellino- of
" Moinaj filence is in the houfe of her fathers."
Nothing alfo can be more natural and lively than
the manner in which Carthon afterwards de-
fcribes how the conflagration of his city af-
fefted him when a child : " Have I not feen the
7 '' fallen

382 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

« fallen Balclutha ? And (hall I feafl with Com^
•* hal's Ton ? Comhal ! who threw his fire in the
" midft of my father's hall 1 I was young, and
** knew not the caufe why the virgins wept.
" The columns of fmoke pleafed mine eye, when
<* they rofe above my walls : I often looked back
** with gladnefs, when my friends fled above the
" hill. But when the years of my youth came
** on, I beheld the mofs of my fallen walls. My
<* figh arofe with the morning ; and my tears
" defcendcd with night. Shall I not fight, I
** faid to my foul, againft the children of my
« foes ? And I will fight, O Bard ! I feel the
*« flrength of my foul." In the fame poem,
the afiembling of the chiefs round Fingal, who
had been warned of fome impending danger by
the appearance of a prodigy, is defcribed with fo
many pidurefque circumftances, that one ima-
gines himfelf prefent in the aflembly. " The
" king alone beheld the terrible fight, and he
*• forefaw the death of his people. He came in
«* filence to his hall, and took his father's fpear^
<* the mail rattled on his bread. The heroes
" rofe around,^ They looked in filence on each
** other, marking the eyes of Fingal. They
" faw the battle in his face. A thoufand fhields
<« are placed at once on their arms j and they
<« drew a thoufand fwords. The hall of Selma

" brightened

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 3S3

^* brightened around. The clang of arms
*' alcends. The grey dogs howl in their place.
" No word is among the mighty chiefs. Each
" marked the eyes of the king j and half af-
" fumed his fpear."

It has been ohjecled to Offian, that his de-
fcriptions of military adions are imperfed, and
much lefs diverfified by circumftances than thofe
of Homer. This Is in fome meafvire true. The
amazing fertility of Homer's invention is no
where fo much difplayed as in the incidents of
his battles, and in the little hillory pieces he gives
of the perfons flain. Nor indeed, with regard
to the talent of defcription, can too much be
faid in praife of Homer. Every thing is alive
in his writings. The colours with which he
paints are thofe of nature. But Offian's genius
was of a different kind from Homer's, It led
him to hurry towards grand objeds, rather than
to amufe himfelf with particulars of lefs im-
portance. He could dwell on the death of a
favourite hero; but that of a private man fel-
dom flopped his rapid coutfe. Homer's genius
was more comprehenfive than Offian's. It in-
cluded a wider circle of objecls ; and could work
up any incident into defcription. Offian's was
more limited i but the region within which it

chiefly

334 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

chiefly exerted itfelf was the higheft of all, the
region of the pathetic and fublime.

We muft not imagine, however, that OfTian's
battles confiH: only of general indiftindl defcrip-
tion. Such beautiful incidents are fometimes
introduced, and the circumftances of the perfons
flain fo much diverfified, as fliow that he could
have embellifned his military fcenes with an
aburwdant variety of particulars, if his genius
had led him to dwell upon them. " One man
" is (Iretched in the duft of his native land; he
" fell, where often he had fpread the feaft, and
<« often raifed the voice of the harp." The
maid of Iniflore is introduced, in a moving
apoftrophe, as weeping for another; and a
third, " as rolled in the dull he lifted his faint
*' eyes to the king," is remembered and mourned
by Fingal as the friend of Agandecca. The
blood pouring from the wound of one who is
flain by night, is heard " hifTing on the half-
" cxtinguiflied oak," which had been kindled
for giving light : Another, climbing a tree to
efcape from his foe, is pierced by his fpear from
behind; " fnrieking, panting he fell; whilll
" mofs and withered branches purfue his fall,
" and drew the blue arms of Gaul." Never
was a finer picture drawn of the ardour of two

youthful

ON THE POEMS OF OSSiAN. 3§5

youthful warriors than the following : " I faw
*' Gaul in his armour, and my foul was mixed
*' with his : For the fire of the battle was in his
** eyes -, he looked to the foe with joy. We
** fpoke the words of friendlhip in fecret; and
" the lightning of our fwords poured together.
*' We drew them behind the wood, and tried the
" (Irength of our arms on the empty air."

OssiAN is always concife in his defcriptions,
which adds much to their beauty and force.
For it is a great miftake to imagine, that a
crowd of particulars, or a very full and extended
ftyle, is of advantage to defcription. On the
contrary, fuch a diffufe manner for the mod
part weakens it. Any one redundant circum-
ftance is a nuifance. It encumbers and loads the
fancy, and renders the main image indiftinft.
" Obftat," as Quintilian fays with regard to
ftyle, " quicquid non adjuvat." To be con-
cife in defcription, is one thing ; and to be
general, is another. No defcription that refts in
generals can pofllbly be good j it can convey no
lively idea j for it is of particulars only that we
have a diftinfb conception. But at the fame
time, no ftrong imagination dwells long upon
any one particular; or heaps together a mafs of
trivial ones. By the happy choice of feme one,
or of a few that are the moft ftriking, it prefents

Vol. II. C c the

386 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

the Image more complete, fnows us more at ont
glance, than a feeble imagination is able to da,
by turning its objeft round and round into a
varieiy of lights. Tacitus is of all profe writers
the moft concife. He has even a degree of
abruptnefs refembling our a-uthor : Yet no wri-
ter is more eminent for lively dcfcription.
When Fingal, after having conquered the
liaughty Swaran, propofes to difmifs him with
honour : *' Raife to-morrow thy white fails to
" the wind, thou brother of Agandecca !" He
conveys, by thus addrefiing his enemy, a
ftrono-er imprefllon of the emotions then pafllng
within his mind, than if whole paragraphs had
been fpent in defcribing the conflict between re-
fentment againil Swaran and the tender remem-
brance of his ancient love. No amplification is
needed to give us the moH: {v.ll idea of a hardy
veteran, after the few following words : *' His
*' fhield is marked with the ftrokes of battle;
, *' his red eye defpifes danger." When Ofcar,
left alone, was furrounded by foes, " he flood,"
it is faid, " growing in his place, like the flood
*« of the narrow vale;" a happy reprefentation
of one, who, by daring intrepidity in the midfl:
of danger, fcems to increafe in his appearance,
and becomes more formidable every moment,
Jike the fudden rifing of the torrent hemmed' in

* by

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 3S7

by the valley. And a whole crowd of ideas,
concerning the circumftances of domeflic for-
row occafioned by a young warrior's firll going
forth to battle, is poured upon the mind by thefe
words : " Calmar leaned on his father's fpear ;
" that fpear which he brouglit from Lara's hall,
" when the foul of !iis mother was fad."

The concifenefs of OiTian's drfcriptions is the
more proper on account of his fubjefts. Defcrip-
tions of gay and finiling fcenes may, without
any diiadvantage, be amplified and prolonged.
Force is not the predominant quality expefted in
thefe. The defcription may be weakened by be-
ing diifufe, yet, notwithftanding, may be beauti-
ful ftiU. Whereas, with refped to grand, folemn
and pathetic fubje(5ls, which are Offian's chief
field, the cafe is very different. In thefe, energy
is above all things required. The imagination
muft be feized at once, or not at all ; and is far
more deeply impreffed by one flrong and ardent
image, than by the anxious minucenefs of la-
boured illuftration.

But OlTian's genius, though chiefly turned
towards the fublime and pathetic, was not con-
fined to it : In fubje(fls alfo of grace and deli-
cacy, he difcovers the hand of a mafter. Take
for an example the following elegant defcription
of Agandecca, wherein the tendernefs of Tibullus
C c 2 feems

38S A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

ieems united with the majefty of Virgil. " The
" daughter of the fnow overheard, and left the
« hall of her fecret figh. She came in all her
" beauty J like the moon from the cloud of the
" Eall. Lovelinefs was around her as light.
" Her fteps were like the mufic of fongs. She
*' faw the youth and loved him. He was the
« ftolen figh of her foul. Her blue eyes rolled
« on him in fecret : And fhe bleft the chief of
*' Morven." Several other inftances might be
produced of the feelings of love and friendftiip
painted by our author with a moft natural and
happy delicacy.

The fimplicity of OfTian's manner adds great
beauty to his defcriptions, and indeed to his
whole poetry. We meet with no affcded orna-
ments ; no forced refinement; no marks either
in ftyle or thought of a (tudicd endeavour to
fliine and fparkle. OlTian appears every where
to be prompted by his feelings •, and to Ipeak
from the abundance of his heart. I remember
no more than one inllance of what can be called
quaint thought in this whole colledlion of his
works. It is in the firfl: book of Fingal, where
from the tombs of two lovers two lonely yews
are mentioned to have fprung, " whofe branches
" wifhed to meet on high." This fympathy of
the trees with the lovers, mr^y be reckoned to

border

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 389

border on an Italian conceit ; and it is fomc-
what curious to find this fmgle inftance- of that
fort of wit in our Celtic poetry.

The " joy of grief," is one of Ofliian's re-
markable exprefllons, feveral times repeated. If
any one Ihall think that it needs to he juftified
by a precedent, he may find it twice ufed by
Homer J in the Iliad, when Achilles is vifited by
the ghofi: of Patroclus -, and in the OdyfTcy, when
Ulyfles meets his mother in the (hades. On both
thefe occafions, the heroes, meked with tender-
nefs, lament their not having it in their power to
throw their arms round the ghofl, " that we
" might," fay they, " in a mutual embrace,
" enjoy the delight of grief.'*

-- ' Kp'JicoTo TeTSioTroouiiTfjx, yocto*.

But in truth the exprefTion ftands in need of
no defence from authority j for it is a natural
and juft exprefTion j and conveys a clear idea of
that gratification, which a virtuous heart often
feels in the indulgence of a tender melancholy.
OITian makes a very proper diftinclion betv/een
this gratification, and tiie deftrufVive effect of
overpowering grief. ** There is a joy in grief,
<* when peace dwells in the breafts of the fad,
" But forrow waftes the mournful, O daughter
*' of Tofcar, and their days are few." To
<« give the joy of grief," generally fignifies to
* Oclyir. 1 1. 2 11. Iliad. 23. 98.

C c 3 raife

390 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

raife the ftrain of foft and grave mufic ; and
finely charaderifcs the cade of Offian's age and
country. In thofe days, when the fongs of
bards were the great delight of heroes, the tra-
gic mufe was held in chief honour j gallant
aftions, and virtuous fufFcrlngs, were tiie chofea
theme J preferably to that light and trifling
ftrain of poetry and mufic, which promotes
light and trifling manners, and ferves to emafcu-
late the mind, " Strike the Jv.irp in my hall,"
faid the great Fingal, in the rr,, dil: of youth
and vidory, " Strike the harp in my hall,
" and let Fingal hear the fong. Pleafanr is the
" joy of grief! It is like the fliower of Ipring,
*' when it foftens the branch of the oak -, and
" the young leaf lifts its green head. Sing on,
<f O bards ! To-morrow we lift the fail."

Personal epithets have been much ufed by
all the poets of the mod ancient ages : and when
well chofen, not general and unmeaning, they
contribute not a little to render the dyle defcrip-
tive and animated. Befides epithets founded on
bodily didinflions, a-kin to many of Homer's,
we find in Oflian feveral which are remarkably
bsautiful and poetical. Such as, Ofcar of the
future fights, Fingal of the mildeft look, Carril
of other times, the mildly blufliing Eviraliin j
Bragela, the lonely fun-beam of Dunfcaich i a
Culdee, the fon of the fecrec cell.

But

OK THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 391

But of all the ornaments employed in dcfcrip-
tive poetry, comparifons or fimilics are the moft
Iplendid. Thefe chiefly form what is called the
imagery of a poem : And as they abound fo
much in the works of OlTun, and are commonly
among the favourite pailages of all poets, it may
be expe<5ted that I fhould be fomewhat particular
in my remarks upon them.

A POETICAL fimile always fuppofes two ob-
jeds brought together, between which there is ~
fome near relation or connedion in .the fancy.
What that relation ought to be, cannot be pre-
cifely denned. For various, almofl numberlcls,
are the analogies formed among objects, by a
fprightly imagination. The relation of adual
fimilitude, or likenefs of appearance, is far from
being the only foundation of poetical compari-
fon. Sometimes a refemblance in the effecl pro-
duced by two objeds, is made the conneding
principle : Sometimes a refemblance in one diftin-
guifhing property or circumftance. Very often
two objecls are brought together in a fimile,
though they refemble one another, Ilricliy
fpeaking, in nothing, only becaufe they raife
in the mind a train of fimilar, and what inay be
called, concordant ideas j fo that the remem-
brance of the one, when recalled, ferves to
quicken and heighten the impreflion made by
the other. Tiui, to give an inftance from our
C c 4 po^t^>

292 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

poet, the pleafure with which an old man looks
back on the exploits of his youth, has certainly
no dired refemblance to the beauty of a fine
evening} farther than that both agree in pro-
ducing a certain calm, placid joy. Yet Ofllan
has founded upon this, one of the moft beauti-
ful connparifons that is to be met with in any
poet. " Wilt thou not iiften, fon of the rock,
" to the fong of Offian ? My foul is full of
*' other times j the joy of my youth returns.
** Thus the fun appears in the weft, after the
*' fteps of his brightnefs have moved behind a
" ftorm. The green hills lift their dewy heads.
*^ The blue ftieams rejoice in the vale. The
" aged hero comes forth on his ftaff; and his
" grey hair glitters in the beam." Never was
there a finer group of objeds. It raifes a ftrong
conception of the old man's joy and elation of
heart, by difplaying a fcene, which produces in
every fpecftator, a correfponding train of plea-
fing emotions i the declining fun looking forth
in his brightnefs after a ftorm j the chearful face
of all nature; and the ftill life finely animated
by the circumftance of the aged hero, with his
ftaff and his grey locks i a circumftance both
extremely piclurefque in itfelf, and peculiarly
fuited to the main object of the comparifon.
Such analogies and aflbciations of ideas as thefe,
are highly pleafmg to the fancy. They give
7 opportunity

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 393

opportunity for introducing many a fine poeti-
cal pidure. They diverfify the fcene j they
aggrandize the fubjedi they keep the imagina-
tion awake and fprightly. For as the judgment
is principally exercifed in diftinguifhing obje<5ls,
and remarking the differences among thofe which
feem like -, fo the higheft amufemcnt of the im.a-
gination is to trace likeneffes and agreements
among thofe which feem different.

The principal rules which refpect poetical
comparifons are, that they be introduced on
proper occafions, when the mind is difpofed to
relifh them j and not in the midft of fome fevere
and agitating paflion, which cannot admit this
play of fancy j that they be founded on a re-
femblance neither too near and obvious, fo as
to give little amufement to the imagination in
tracing it, nor too faint and remote, fo as to be
apprehended with difficulty j that they fervc
either to illuflrate the principal objedl, and to
render the conception of it more clear and
diftindl j or at leall, to heighten and embellifh
it, by a fuitable aflbciation of images *.

Every country has a fcenery peculiar to it-
felf i and the imagery of a good poet w^ill exhibit
it. For as he copies after nature, his allufions

* Sec Element'; of Criticifm, ch. 19. vol. 3.

will

394 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

will of courfe be taken from thofe objecfls which
he fees around him, and which have often ftruck
his fancy. For this reafon, in order to judge
of the propriety of poetical imagery, we ought
to be, in fome meafure, acquainted with the na-
tural hillory of the country where the fcene of
the poem is laid. The intrcdudion of foreign
images betrays a poet, copying not from nature,
but from other writers. Hence fo many lions,
and tygers, and eagles, and ferpents, which we
meet with in the fimiles of modern poets j as if
thefe animals had acquired fbme right to a place
in poetical comparifons for ever, becaufe em-
ployed by ancient authors. They employed
them with propriety, as objects gen';ra}iy knowa
in their country j but they are abfurdly ufed for
illuflration by us, who know them only at fc-
cond-hand, or by defcription. To mod readers
of modern poetry, it were more to the purpofe
to defcribe lions or tygers by fimiles taken
from men, than to compare men to lions.
Offian is very corred in this particular. His
imagery is, without exception, copied from that
face of nature, which he favv before his eyes j
and by confequence may be expefled to be
lively. We meet with no Grecian or Italian
fcenery i but with the mids, and clouds, and
ftorms of a northern mountainous region.

No

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. ^95

No poci abounds more in fimilcs than OITian.
There are in this cc^lie^lion as many, at lead, as
in the whole Iliad and OdylTey of Homer. I am
indeed inclined to think, that the works of both
poets are too much crowded with them. Similes
are fparkling ornaments; and like all things that
fparkle, are apt to dazzle and tire us by their
lullre. But if Offian's fur.iles be too frequent,
they have this advantage of being commonly
fhorter than Homer's j they interrupt his narra-
tion lefsi he jufl: glances afide to ibme refembling
objeft, and inftantly returns to his former track.
Homer's fimiles include a wider range of objects.
Put in return, Offian's are, without exception,
taken from objefls of dignity, which cannot be
iaid for all thofe v/hich H )mer employs. The
Sun, the Moon, and the Stars, Clouds, and Me-
teors, Lightnmg and Thunder, Seas and Whales,
Rivers, Torrents, Winds, Ice, Rain, Snow,
Dews, Milr, Fire and Smoke, Trees and Fo-
refts. Heath and Grafs and Flov/ers, Rocks and
Mountains, Mufic and Songs, Light and Dark-
nefs, Spirits and Ghoils ; thefe form the circle,
within which OlTian's comparifons generally run.
Some, not many, are taken from Birds and
Bcaftsi as Eagles, Sea Fowl, the Horfe, the
Deer, and the mountain Bee i anJ a very few
from fuch operations of art as wjre then known.

Homer

396 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

Homer has divcrfified his imagery by many
more allufions to the animal world; to Lions,
Bulls, Goats, Herds of Cattle, Serpents, Infe(5ts;
and to the various occupations of rural and
paftoral life. Olfian's defed: in this article, is
plainly owing to the defert, uncultivated ftate of
his country, which fuggefted to him few images
beyond natural inanimate objedls, in their rudeft
form. The birds and animals of the country
were probably not numerous; and his acquaint-
ance with them was flender, as they v/ere little
fubjefled to the ufes of man.

The great objedion made to Offian's imagery,
is its uniformity, and the too frequent repetition
of the fame comparifons. In a v/ork fo thick
fown with fimiles, one could not but exped to
find images of the fame kind fometimes fug-
gefted to the poet by refembling objefls ; cfpe-
cially to a poet like Ofllan, who wrote from
the immediate impulfe of poetical enthufiafm,
and without much preparation of ftudy or la-
bour. Fertile as Homer*s imagination is ac-
knowledged to be, who does not know how
often his Lions and Bulls and Flocks of Sheep,
recur with little or no variation ; nay, fome-
times in the very fame words ? The objedion
made to OfTian is, however, founded, in a great
meafure, upon a miftake. It has been fuppofed

by

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAM. 397

by inattentive readers, that wherever the Moon,
the Cloud, or the Thunder, returns in a fimile,
it is the fame fimile, and the lame Moon, or
Cloud, or Thunder, which thev had met with a
few pages before. Whereas very often the fimi-
les are widely different. The objefl, whence
they are taken, is indeed in fubftance the fame j
but the image is new ; for the appearance of the
objeft is changed ; it is prefented to the fancy
in another attitude j and clothed with new
circumftances, to make it fuit the different il-
luilration for which it is employed. In this, lies
Oflian's great art; in fo happily varying the
form of the fev/ natural appearances with which
he was acquainted, as to make them correfpond
to a great many different objects.

Let us take for one inftance the Moon,
which is very frequently introduced into his
comparifonsj as in northern climates, v/here the
nights are long, the Moon is a greater objeft of
attention, than in the climate of Homer; and
let us view how much our poet has diverfified its
appearance. The fliield of a v/arrior is like
•* the darkened moon when it moves a dun
" circle through tlie heavens." The face of 3
ghoff, wan and pale, is like «* the beam of the
" fetting moon." And a different appearance
of a ghoft, thin and indiftin(5l, is like " the

** new

J98 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" new moon fcen through the gathered mifl-^
" when the fky pours down its flaky fnow, and
** the world, is filenr and dark;" or in a different
form Hill, is like " the watery beam of the
" moon, when it rufiies from between two
" clouds, and the midnight -fhower is on the
" field." A very oppofite ufe is mude of the
moon in the defcription of Agandecca : " She
" came in all her -beauty, like the moon from
" the cloud of the Eaft." Hope, fucceeded by
difappointment, is " joy rifing on her face, and
** forrow returning again, like a thin cloud on
'* the moon." But when Swaran, after his de-
feat, is cheared by Fingal's generofity, " His
" face brightened like the full moon of heaven,
'* when the clouds vanifli away, and leave her
" calm and broad in the midft of the flcy."
Venvela is " bright as the moon when it trembles
** o'er the weftern wavej" but the foul of the
guilty Uthal is " dark as the troubled face of
*« the moon, when it foretels the florm." And
by a very fanciful and uncommon allufion, it is
faid of Cormac, who was to die in his early
years, " Nor long flialt thou life the fpsar,
*' mildly fhining beam of youth ! Death {lands
«« dim behind thee, like the darkened half of
" the moon behind its growing light."

Another

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 3(^9

Another inftance of the fame nature may
be taken from ' mift, i^hich, as being a very
familiar appearance in tiie country of Offian,
he applies to a variety of purpofes, and purfues
through a great many forms. Sometimes, which
one would hardly exped, he employs it to
heighten the appearance of a beautiful objcd.
The hair of Morna is " like the mift of Cromja,
" when it curls on the rock, and fhines to tiie
" beam of the weft." — " The fong comes with
*' its mufick to melt and pleafe the ear. It is
'^ like fofc mift, tliat rifing from a lake pours
" on the filent vale. The green flowers are
" filled with dew. The fun returns in its
" ftrength, and the mift is gone *." — Bur, for
the moft part, mift is emiployed as a fimilitude
of fome difagreeable or terrible object. " The
^^ foul of Nathos was fad, like the fun in the

* There is a remarkable propriety in this comparifon. It
is intended to explain the cfTedt of foft and iTnurnl'uI mi\fic.
Armin appears difturbed at a performance of this kind. Car-
mor fays to him, " Why burfts the figh of Armin ? Is there
" a caufe to mourn ? The fong comes with its mufic to melt
" and pleafe the ear. It is like foft mift, &c." that is, fucli
mo'irnful fongs have a happy effetft to foften the heart, and.
to improve it by tender emotions, as the moifture of the mift
refrclhes and nourifhes the flowers ; whilft the fadnefs tliey
occafion is only tranfiert, and foon difpelled by the fucceed-
ing occupations and amufements of life : " The fun returns
*' in its ftrength, and the mift Is gone."

^' day

400 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" day of mid, when his face is watery and
<« dim." " The darknefs of old age comes like
«« the mift of the defert." The face of a
ghoft is " pale as the mift of Cromla." " The
<f gloom of battle is rolled along as mift that is
*« poured on the valley, when ftorms invade
« the filent fun-ihine of heaven.'* Fame fud-
denly departing, is likened to " mift that flies
<« away before the ruftling wind of the vale."
A ghoft, flowly vaniftiing, to " mift that melts
«' by degrees on the funny hill." Cairbar, after
his treacherous alTairmation of Ofcar, is com-
pared to a peftilencial fog. " I love a foe like
« Cathmor," fays Fingal, "his foul is great;
<« his arm is ftrongj his battles are full of fame.
«' But the little foul is like a vapour that hovers
" round the marftiy lake. It never rifes on the
« green hill, left the winds meet it there. Its
" dwelling is in the cave; and it fends forth
" the dart of death." This is a fimile highly
finiftied. But there is another which is ftill
more ftriking, founded alfo on mift, in the
4th book of Temora. Two fadious chiefs are
contending j Carhmor the king interpofes, re-
bukes, and filenccs them. The poet intends to
give us the higheft idea of Cathmor's fuperiorityi
and moft effeftually accomplifties his intention
by the foUov/ing happy image. " They funk

" from

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 401

" from the king on either fide j like two columns
** of morning mid, when the fun rifes between
** them, on his glittering rocks. Dark is their
** rolling on either fide j each towards its reedy
'^' pool.** Thefe inftances may fufficiently fliew
with what richnefs of imagination Oflian's com-
parifons abound, and at the fame time, with
what propriety of judgment they are employed*
If his field was narrow, it muft be admitted to
have been as well cultivated as its extent would
allow.

As it is ufual to judge of poets from a com-
parifon of their fimiles more than of other paf-
fages, it will perhaps be agreeable to the reader,
to fee how Homer and Oflian have conducted
fome images of the fame kind. This might be
Ihevvn in many inftances. For as the great ob-
je6ls of nature are common to the poets of all
nations, and make the general ftore-houfe of all
imagery, the ground-work of their compari-
fons muft of courfe be frequently the fame. I
Ihall feledl only a few of the moft confiderable
from both poets. Mr. Pope's tranflation of
Homer can be of no life to us here. The pa-
rallel is altogether unfair between profe, and the
impofing harmony of flowing numbers. It is
only by viewing Homer in the fimplicity of a

Vol. II. D d profe

402 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION'

profe tranflation, that we can form any compar-
rifon between the two bards.

The fliock of two encountering armies, the

noife and the tumult of battle, afford one of the

mod grand and awful fubjetfts of defcripcion ; on.

which all epic poets have exerted their (Irength.

Let us firft hear Homer. The fallowing defciip-

tion is a favourite one, for we find it twice

repeated in the fame v/ords *. '* When nov/

f the con Riding hofis joined in the field of

' battle, then were mutually oppofed Ihields,

' and fwords, and the ftrength of armed men.

• The boffy bucklers were daihed againfl: each

' other. The univerfal tumuh rofe. There

' were mingled the triumphant ihouts and the

f dying groans of the viflors and the v^nquilhed,

« The earth dreamed v^/ith blood. As when

' winter torrents, rufliing from the mountains,

« pour into a narrow valley, their violent wa-

' ters. They ilTue from a thoufand fprings,

' and mix in the hollowed channel. The dif-

' tant fhepherd hears on the mountain, their

' roar from afar. Such was the terror and the

' Pnout of the engaging armies." In another

pafiagc, the poet, m.uch in the manner of Oflian,

heaps fimile on fimile, to exprefs the vaftnefs of

* Iliad, iv. 446. und Ili;id, viii. 60.

the

GN THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 403

tht Idea, with which his imagination feenns to la-
bour. " With a mighty (hout the hofts engage,

* Not fo loud roars the wave of ocean, when
^ driven againfl: the fliore by the whole force of
' the boillerous north j not fo loud in the woods
' of the mountain, the noife of the flame, when

* rifing in its fury to confume the foreft i not
' fo loud the wind among the lofty oaks, when

* the wrath of the ftorm rages ; as was the
' clamour of the Greeks and Trojans, when,
' roaring terrible, they rullied againfl: each

* other **"

To thefe defcriptions and fimiles, we may
oppofe the following from Oflian, and leave the
reader to judge between them. He will find
images of the fame kind employed ; commonly
lefs extended ; but thrown forth with a glowing
rapidity which characflerifes our poet. " As
<« autumn's dark florms pour from two echoing
<* hills, towards each other, approached the
** heroes. As two dark ftreams from high rocks
*« meet and mix, and roar on the plain j loud,
" rough, and dark in battle, meet Lochlin and
** Inisfail. Chief mixed his fl:rokes with chief,
" and man with man. Steel clanging, founded
" on flecl. Helmets are cleft on high j blood

* IKad, xlv. 393.

D d 2 '^ burfts

404 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

*' burfts and fmoaks around. — As the troubled
" noife of the ocean, when roll the waves on
" high j as the laft peal of the thunder of hea-
** ven, fuch is the noife of battle." — " As roll a
" thoiifand waves to the rock, fo Swaran's hoft
" came on ; as meets a rock a thoufand waves,
** fo Inisfail met Swaran. Death raifes all his
■*' voices around, and mixes with the found of
*' fhiclds. — The field echoes from wing to wing,
•' as a hundred hammers that rife by turns on
** the red fon of the furnace." — " As a hundred
" winds on Morven ; as the ftreams of a hun-
" dred hills ; as clouds fly fucceflive over hea-
*' ven ; or as the dark ocean affaults the fliore
** of the defart 3 fo roaring, fo vafl:, fo terrible,
** the armies mixed on Lena's echoing heath."
In feveral of thefe images, there is a remarkable
fimilarity to Homer's i but what follows is fupe-
rior to any comparifon that Homer ufes on this
lubjed. " The groan of the people fpread
" over the hills i it was like th6 thunder of
*' night, when the cloud burfts on Conaj and
*' a thoufand ghofts fnriek at once on the hoi-
«* low wind." Never was an image of more
awful fublimity employed to heighten the terror
of battle.

Both poets compare the appearance of an
army approaching, to the gathering of dark

clouds.

OH THE POEMS OF OSSIAN, 405

clouds. " As when a (hepherd," fays Homer,
" beholds from the rock a cloud borne along
*' the Tea by the weftern wind j black as pitch
" it appears from afar failing over the ocean,
" and carrying the dreadful ftorm. He flirinks
*' at the fight, and drives his flock into the cave ;
^' Such, under the Ajaces, moved on, the dark,

** the thickened phalanx to the war *."

^' They came," fays OfTian, " over the defert
^f like ftormy clouds, when the winds roll them
^' over the heath ; their edges are tinged with
" lightning j and the echoing groves forefee
^« the ftorm." The edges of the cloud tinged
with lightning, is a fublime ideaj but the fhcp-
herd and his flock, render Homer's fimile more
pifturefquc. This is frequently the difference
between the two poets. OflTjan gives no more
than the main image, ftrong and full. Homer
adds circumftances and appendages, which amufe
the fancy by enlivening the fcenery.

Homer compares the regular appearance of
an army, to " clouds that are fettled on the
" mountain top, in the day of calmnefs, when
<f the ftrength of the north wind fleeps f.'*
Ofllan, with full as much propriety, compares
the appearance of a difordered army, to *< the

• Iliad, iv. 275. f Ili^d, v, 522.

P d 3 ^* mpun-

405 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" mountain cloud, when the blaft hath entered
" its womb J and fcatters the curling gloom on
'^ every fide." Qinan's clouds aiTuine a great
many forms ; and, as we mighc e:ipe6l from his
climate, are a fertile fource of imagery to him.
" The warriors followed their chiefs, like the
*' gathering of the rainy clouds, behind the
*■' red meteors of heaven." An army retreat-
ing without coming to adion, is likened to
'f clouds, that having long threatened rain,
*^ retire flowly behind the hills." The piflure
ofOithona, after ilie had determined to die, is
lively and delicate, " Her foul was refolved,
*' and the tear was dried from her wildly-look-
*^ ing eye. A troubled joy role on her mind,
*f like the red path of the lightning on a ftormy
*f cloud." The image ajlb of the gloomy Cair-
bar, meditating, in filence, the afTaffination of
Ofcar, until the moment came when his defigns
■were ripe for execution, is extremely noble, and
compleie in ail its parrs. *' Cairbar heard their
*F words in filence, like the cloud of a fliower j
" it flands dark on Cromla, till the lightning
" burfts its fide. The valley gleams with red
" light ; the fpirits of the ftorm rejoice. So
•? Hood the filent king of Temora i at length his
•f words are heard."

Il0MER*S

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 407

Homer's comparifon of Achilles to the Dog-
Star, is very fublime. " Priam beheld him
*-= rufliing along the plain, fliining in his ar-
<* mour, like the flar of autumn j bright are
*' its beams, diftinguifhed amidfl the- mulrirude
" of ftars in the dark hour of night. It rifes
" in its fplendor j but its fplendor is fatal j be-
" tokening to miferable men, the deftroying
" heat *." The firfi: appearance of Fingal, is,
in like manner, compared by Olfian, to a flar
or meteor. *' Fingal, tall in his fhip, ftretched
** his bright lance before him. Terrible was the
•-^ gleam of his ftcel ; it was like the green
*' meteor of death, letting in the heath of Mal-
*^ mor, when the traveller is alone, and the
" broad moon is darkened in heaven." The
hero's appearance in Homer, is more magnifi-
cent i in Offian, more terrible.

A TREE cut down, or overthrown by a ftorm,
is a fimilirude frequent among poets for dcfcrib-
iiig the fall of a warrior in battle. Homer
employs, it often. But the moft beautiful, by
far, of his comparifons, founded on this ob-
ject, indeed one of the moft beautiful in the
whole Iliad, is that on the death of Euphorbus.
" As the young and verdant olive, which a man
" hath reared with care in a lonely field, where

• Iliad, xxii. 26.

D d 4 " the

4o8 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

'^ the fprings of water bubble around it ; it is,
*^ fair and flourilliing i it is fanned by the breath
" of all the winds, and loaded with white blof-
" fomsj when the fudden blafl of a whirlwind
*' defcending, roots it out from its bed, and
" rtretches it on the dufl: *." To this, elegant
as it is, we may oppofe the following fimile of
OflTian's, relating to the death of the three fons
ofUfnoth. " They fell, like three young oaks
** which uood alone on the hill. The traveller
" faw the lovely trees, and wondered how they
" grew fo lonely. The blaft of the defert came
" by night, and laid their green heads low.
" Next day he returned j but they were wi-
<' thered, and the heath was bare." Malvina's
allufion to the fame objed, in her lamentation
over Ofcar, is fo exquifitely tender, that I can-
not forbear giving it a place alfo. " I was a
*' lovely tree in thy prefence, Ofcar ! with all
*' my branches round me. But thy death came,
" like a blaft from the defert, and laid my
" green head low. The fpring returned with
*' its (bowers ; but no leaf of mine arofe."
Several of Oflian's fimiles taken from trees, are
remarkably beautiful, and diverfified with well
chofen circumftances ; fuch as that upon the
death of Ryno and Orla ; " They have fallen

* Iliad, xvii. 53.

« like

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 409

** like the oak of the dcfert; when it lies acrofs
<* a dream, and withers in the wind of the
♦' mountains:" Or that which OfTian applies to
himfelfj " I, like an*ancienc oak in Morven,
f' moulder alone in my places the blaft hath
*' lopped my branches awayj and I tremble at
" the wings of the north,'*

As Homer exalts his heroes by comparing
them to gods, OlBan makes the fame ufe of
comparifons taken from fpirits and ghofts. Swa-
ran " roared in battle, like the ihrill fpirit of a
" ftorm that fits dim on the clouds of Gormal,
^' and enjoys the death of the mariner." His
people gathered around Erragon, " like ftorms
*' around the ghoft of night, when he calls
*^ them from the top of Morven, and prepares
^' to pour them on the land of the ftranger." —
" They fell before my fon, like groves in the
" defert, when an angry ghoft rufhes through
*' night, and takes their green heads in his
*' hand." In fuch images, OfTian appears in
his ftrength j for very feldom have fupernatural
beings been painted with fo much fublimity,
and fuch force of imagination, as by this poet.
Even Homer, great as he is, muft yield to him
in fimiles formed upon thefe. Take, for in-
ftance, the following, which is the moft re-
markable of this kind in the Iliad. " Meri-

« ones

4IO A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" ones followed Idomeneus to battle, like Mars
« the deftroyer of men, v/hen he rufiies to war.
" Terror, his beloved fon, ftrong and fierce,
« attends him i who fills with difmay the moft
<f valiant hero. They come from Thrace,
<^ armed againft the Ephyrians and Phlegyans ;
« nor do they regard the prayers of either;
«' but difpofe of fuccefs at their will*." The
idea here, is undoubtedly noble : but obferve
what a figure OfTian fets before the aftonifhed
imagination, and with what fublimely terrible
circumftances he has heightened it. " He ruflied
" in the found of his arms, like the dreadful
" fpirit of Loda, when he comes in the roar
" of a thoufand ftorms, and fcacters battles from
« his eyes. He fits on a cloud over Lochlin's
" feas. His mighty hand is on his fword.
" The winds lift his flaming locks. So terrible
" was CuthuUin in the day of his fame."

Homer's comparifons relate chiefly to mar-
tial fubjeds, to the appearances and motions of
armies, the engagement and death of heroes,
and the various incidents of war. In Oflian, wc
find a greater variety of other fubjefls illuftrated
by fimiles i particularly, the fongs of bards, the
beauty of women, the difixrent circumftances of

* Ili.id, xiii. 298.'

old

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 411

ib\d age, Ibrrow, and private diftrefs j which
give occafion to much beautiful iinagery. What,
for inllance, can be more delicate and moving,
than the following fimile of Oithona's, in her
lamentation over the difhonour fhe haJ fufFcred?
" Chief of Sirumon," replied the fighing maid,
** why didit thou come over the dark blue wave
** to Nuath's mournful daughter ? Why did not
**■ I pals away in fecrct, like the flower of the
*•* rock, that lifts its fair head unfeen, and flrews
*^ its withered leaves on the blaft ?" The mufic
of bards, a favourite objc(5l with Ollian, is
illuftrared by a variety of the mod beautiful
appearances that are to be found in nature. It
is compared to the calm fliuwer of Ipringj to
the dews of the morning on the hill of roes j to
the face of the blue and ftill la.ke. Two fimiles
on this fubjeft, I fliall quote, becaufe they would
do honour to any of the moll celebrated claffics.
The one isj ^' Sit thou on the heath, O baid!
(^ and let us hear thy voice ; it is pleafant as
*f the gale of the fpring that fighs on the hun-
*? ter's ear, when he wakens from dreams of
*♦' joy, and has heard the mufic of the fpirits of
<F the hill." The other contains a fhort, but
exquifitely tender image, accompanied wuh the
finefl: poetical painting. " The mufic of Carril
*< was like the memory of joys that are part-,

*' pleafant

412 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

<' pleafant and mournful to the foul. The
" ghofts of departed bards heard it from Sli-
" mora's fide. Soft founds fpread along the
« wood ; and the filent valleys of night rejoice.' ■
What a figure would fuch imagery and fuch
fcenery have made, had they been prefented to
us, adorned with the fweetnefs and harmony of
the Virgilian numbers !

I HAVE chofen all along to compare Ofllan
with Homer, rather than Virgil, for an obvious
reafon. There is a much nearer correfpondence
between the times and manners of the two for-
mer poets. Both wrote in an early period of
fociety ; both are originals i both are diftin-
guilhed by fimplicity, fublimity, and fire. The
corred elegance of Virgil, his artful imitation
of tlomer, the Roman flatelinefs which he every
where maintains, admit no parallel with the
abrupt boldnefs, and enthufiallic warmth of
the Celtic bard. In one article, indeed, there
is a refemblancc. Virgil is more tender than
Homer ; and thereby agrees more with Offian ;
with this difference, that the feelings of the one
are more gentle and poliflied, thofe of the other
more ftrongj the tendernefs of Virgil foftens,
that of Offian diflblves and overcomes the heart.

A RESEMBLANCE may be fometimes obferved
between Offian's comparifons, and thofe em-
ployed

o^ THE POEMS OF OSSiAN. 413

ployed by the facred writers. They abound
much in this figure, and they ufe it with the
utmoft propriety *. The imagery of Scripture
exhibits a foil and climate altogether different
from thofe of OfTian ; a warmer country, a
more fmiling face of nature, the arts of agricul-
ture and of rural life much farther advanced.
The wine prefs, and the threfhing floor, are
often prefented to us, the Cedar and the Palm-
tree, the fragrance of perfumes, the voice of
the Turtle, and the beds of Lilies. The fimiles
are, like Oflian's, generally fhort, touching on
one point of refemblance, rather than fpread
out into little epifodes. In the following ex-
ample may be perceived what inexpreflible gran-
deur poetry receives from the intervention of
the Deity. " The nations fliall rufl^i like the
" rulhings of many waters j but God fhall re-
«' buke them, and they fhall fly far off, and
" fhall be chafed as the chaff of the mountains
<* before- the wind, and like the down of the
" thiftle before the whirlwind f."

Besides formal comparifons, the poetry of
Offian is embelliflied with many beautiful meta-
phors : Such as that remarkably fine one ap-

* See Dr. Lowth de Sacra Pocfi Hebrxorum.
f Ifaiah, xvii. 13.

plied

414 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

plied toDeugalai '^ She was covered with tire'
" light of beauty; but her heart was the houfc
" of pride." This mode of expreffion, which
fupprefll'S the mark of comparifon, and fubftir
tures a figured defcription in room of the obje(f>.
defcribed, is a great enlivcner of flyle. It de-
notes that glow and rapidity of fancy, which,
without paufing to form a regular fimile, paints
the objed at one ftroke. *^ Thou art to me the
" beam of the eaft, rifing in a land unknown."
" In peace, thou ^rt the gale of fpring; in war,
" the mountain ftorm." Pleafant be thy reft,
" O lovely beam, foon haft thou fet on our
" hills ! The fleps of thy departure were (lately,
*' like the moon on the blue trembling wave.
*' But thou haft left us in darknefs, firft of the
" maids of Lutha! — Soon haft thou ki, MaU
** vina ! but thou rifeft, like the beam of the
'' eaft, among the fpirits of thy friends, whers
'* they fit in their ftormy halls, the chambers
" of the thunder." This is corre61: and finely
fupported. But in the following inftance, the
metaphor, though vay beautiful at the begin-
ning, becomes imperfeil before it clofes, by
being improperly mixed with the literal fen fe.
" Trathal went forth with the ftream of his
<* people ; but they met a rock j Fingal ftood
*« unmoved i broken they rolled back from his

" fide.

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 415

" fide. Nor did- they roll in fafetvi the fpear
*' of the king purfued their flight."

The hyperbole is a figure which we might
exped to find often employed by Offian ; as the
undifciplined imagination of early ages generally
prompts exaggeration, and carries its objecls to
cxcefs J whereas longer experience, and farther
progrefs in the arts of life, chaften men's ideas
and exprefiions. Yet OlTian's hyperboles appear
not to me, either fo frequent or fo harfh as
might at firft have been looked for ; an advan-
tage owing no doubt to the more cultivated
Hate, in which, as was before fliewn, poetry
fubfifted among the ancient Celt.T, than amono-
moft other barbarous nations. One of the mofl:
exaggerated defcriptions in the whole work, is
what meets us at the beginning of Fingal, where
the fcout makes his report to Cuthullin of the
landing of the foe. But this is fo far from de-
ferving cenfure that it merits praife, as being,
on that occafion, natural and proper. The
fcout arrives, trembling and full of fears ; and
it is well known, that no pafTion difpofes men to
hyperbolize more than terror. It both annihi-
lates themfelves in their own apprehenfion, and
magnifies every obje6t which they view" through
the medium of a troubled imagination. Hence
all thofe indiftinct images of formidable crreat-

ne/5.

4i6 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

nefs, the natural marks of a difturbed and con-^
fufed mind, which occur in Moran's defcrip-
tion of Swaran's appearance, and in his relation
of the conference which they held together; not
unlike the report, which the affrighted Jewifli
fpies made to their leader of the land of Canaan.
" The land through which v/e have gone to
" fearch ir, is a land that eateth up the inhabit-
*' ants thereof; and all the people that we faw
*f in it, are men of a great ftature : and there
" faw we giants, the fons of Anak, wiiich come
" of the giants J and we were in our own fight
" as grafshoppers, and fo were we in theif
« fight*."

With regard to perfonifications, I formerly
obferved that Offian was fparing, and I ac-
counted for his being fo. Allegorical perfon-
^ges he has none ; and their ablence is not to be
re"-retted. For the intermixture of thofe fha-
dowy Beings, which have not the fupport even
pf mythological or legendary belief, with human
afters, feldom produces a good effeft. The
fiction becomes too vifible and phantaftic j and
overthrows that impreffion of reality, which the
probable recital of human a6lions is calculated
to make upon the mind. In the ferious and

* Numbers, xiii. 32, 33.
6 pathetic

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 417

pathetic fcenes of OITian efpecially, allegorical
charaders would have been as much out of
place, as in Tragedy; ferving only unfeafonably
to amufe the fancy, whilft they Hopped the cur-
rent, and weakened the force of paflion.

With apoftrophcs, or addrefles to perfons
abfent or dead, which have been, in all ages,
the language of pafllon, our poet abounds ; and
they are among his higheft beauties. Witnefs
the apoftrophe, in the firfl: book of Fingal, to
<he maid of Iniftore, whofe lover had fallen in
battle J and that inimitably fine one of Cuthul-
lin to Bragela at the conclufion of the fame
book. He commands the harp to be (truck in
her praife ; and the mention of Bragela's name,
immediately fuggefting to him a crowd of ren-
der ideas', " Doft thou raife thy fair face from
" the rocks" he exclaims, " to find the fails
" of Cuthullin ? The fea is rolling far diftant,
" and its whice foam fliall deceive thee for
" my fails." And now his imagination being
wrought up to conceive her as, at that moment,
really in this fituation, he becomes afraid of
the harm fhe may receive from the inclemency
of the night j and with an enthufiafm, happy
and afFe6ling, though beyond the cautious ftrain
of modern poetry, " Retire," he proceeds,
" retire, for it is night, my love, and the dark

Vol. JI. E e *' winds

4i8 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

*' winds figh in thy hair. Retire to the hall of
" my feafts, and think of the times that are
** pad; for I will not return till the ftorm of
** war has ceafed. O Connal, fpeak of wars
«' and arms, and fend her from my mind j for
'« lovely with her raven hair is the whitc-
** bofomed daughter of Sorglan." This breathes
all the native fpirit of paffion and tendernefs.

The addrefles to the fun, to the moon, and to
the evening flar, muit draw the attention of
every reader of tafte, as among the moil fplen-
did ornaments of this colledion. The beauties
of each are too great, and too obvious to need
any particular comment. In one paflage only
of the addrefs to the moon, there appears fome
obfcurity. *' Whither doft thou retire from
" thy CGurfe, when the darknefs of thy coun-
" tenance grows ? Haft thou thy hall like
" Offian ? Dwelleft thou in the fhadow of
" grief? Have thy fitters fallen from Heaven ?
*< Are they who rejoiced with thee at night, no
»' more ? Yes, they have fallen, fair light ! and
" thou doft often retire to mourn." We may
be at a lofs to comprehend, at firft view, the
ground of thefe fpeculations of Ofllan, concern-
ing the moon ; but when all the circumftances
are attended to, they will appear to flow natu-
rally from the prefent fuuation of his mind.

A mind

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 419

A mind under the dominion of any ftrong
paflion, tincflures with its own difpofition, every
obje6l which it beholds. The old bard, with
his heart bleeding for the lofs of all his friends,
is meditating on the different phafes of the
moon. Her waning and darknefs, prefents to
his melancholy imagination, the image of far-
row j and prefently the idea arifes, and is
jndulged, that, like himfelf, flie retires to
mourn over the lofs of other moons, or of ftars,
vphom he calls her fillers, and fancies to have
ftnce rejoiced with her at night, now fallen from
heaven. Darknefs fuggefted the idea of mourn-
ing, and mourning fuggefted nothing fo natu-
rally to OIFian, as the death of beloved friends.
An inftance precifely fimilar of this influence of
paflion, may be feen in a pafTage which has
always been admired of Shakefpeare's King Lear.
The old man on the point of diflraftion, through
the inhumanity of his daughters, fees Edgar
appear difguifed like a beggar and a madman.

Lear. Didft thou give all to thy daughters ?
And art thou come to this ?
Couldeft thou leave nothing ? Didil thou give
them all ?
Kent. He hath no daughters. Sir.

E e 2 Lear,

420 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

Lear. Death, traitor ! nothing could havs
fubdued nature.
To fuch a lovvnefs, but his unkind daughters.

King Lear, A61 3, Scene 5.

The apoftrophe to the winds, in the opening
of Darthula, is in the higheft fpirit of poetry.
" But the winds deceive thee, O Darthula : and
" deny the woody Etha to thy fails. Thefe are
" not thy mountains, Nathos, nor is that the
<f roar of thy climbing waves. The halls of
" Cairbar are near, and the towers of the foe
" lift their head. — Where have ye been, ye
" fouthern winds ; when the fons of my love
«f were deceived ? But ye have been fporting on
" plains, and purfuing the thiftle's beard. O
<' that ye had been rufLling in the fails of Na-
" thos, till the hills of Etha rofe ! till they rofe
" in their clouds, and faw their coming chief."
This paffage is ren^arkable for the refemblance
it bears to an expoftulation v,'ith the wood
nymphs, on their abft kc at a critical timci
which, as a favourTe poetical idea, Virgil has
copied from Theocritus, and Mikon has very
happily imitated from both.

Where were yc, nymphs ! when the remorfelefs

deep
Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas ?

For

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 421

For neither were ye playing on the fteep
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie j
Nor on the fhaggy top of Alona, high,
Nor yet where Deva fpreads her wizard ftream *.

Having now treated fully of Odian's talent?,
with refpecl to defcription and imagery, it only
remains to make fome obfervations on his fenti-
ments. No fentiments can be beautiful without
being proper; that is, fuited to the charafter
and fituation of thofe who utter them. In this
lefpedl, OITian is as correft as moft writers.
His charaflers, as above obferved, are in gene-
ral well fupported -, which could not have been
the cafe, had the fentiments been unnatural or
out of place. A variety of perfonages of diffe-
rent ages, fexes, and conditions, are introduced
into his poems j and they fpeak and aft with a
propriety of fentiment and behaviour, which ic
is furprifing to find in fo rude an age. Let the
poem of Darthula, throughout, be taken as an
example.

But it is not enough that fentiments be na-
tural and proper. In order to acquire any higii

* Milton's Lycldi^. See Theocrlt. Idyll. I.

Hx ttok u^ >iJ-6' OHO. Aa^ii; hxxiTo ; was isuKay Nt/pofai, iScc.

And Virg. Eclog. lo.
Qutc ncmora, aut qui vos laltus habucre, puellie, S:c.

E e 3 degree

422 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

degree of poetical merit-, they mud alfo be
lublime and pathetic.

The fublinie is not confined to fentimenc
alone. It belongs to defcription alfoi and whe-
ther in defcription or in fentiment, imports fuch
ideas prefented to the mind, as raife it to an
uncommon degree of elevation, and fill it with
admiration and aftoniihment. This is the
higheft cfy-d either of eloquence or poetry :
And to produce this effeft, requires a genius
glowing with the iftrongefl: and warmeft con-
ception of fome objecl awful, great or magnifi-
cent. That this character of genius belongs to
Cinan, may, I think, fufficiendy appear from
many of the palTages I have already had occafion
to quote. To produce more initances, were
luperfluous. If the engagement of Fingal with
the fi^irit of Loda, in Carric-thurai if the en-
couiiters of the armies, in Fingal j if the addrefs
to the fun, in Carthon j if the fimiles founded
upon ghofts and fpirits of the night, all for-
merly mentioned, be not admitted as examplesj^
and illuflrious ones too, of the true poetical
fablime, I confefs myklf entirely ignorant of
this quality in writing.

All the circumftances, indeed, of OfTian's

coinpofition, are favourable to the fublime,

2 mors

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 423

more perhaps than to any other fpecies of beauty.
Accuracy and correclnefs j artfully conne6led
narration ; exadl method and proportion of
parts, we may look for in polilhed times. The
gay and the beautiful, will appear to more ad-
vantage in the midft of fmiling fcenery and
pleafurable themes. But amidfl: the rude fcenes
of nature, amidfl rocks and torrents and whirl-
winds and battles, dwells the fublime. It is the
thunder and the lightning of genius. It is the
offspring of nature, not of art. It is negligent
of all the lefTer graces, and perfe«flly confiflent
with a certain noble diforder. It afTociates na-
turally with that grave and folemn fpirit, which
diflinguifhes our author. For the fublime, is
an awful and ferious emotion j and is heightened
by all the images of Trouble, and Terror, and
Darknefs.

Ipfe pater, media nimborum in nofle, porufca
Fulmina molitur dextraj quo maxima motu
Terra trcmic; fugereferjEj & mortalia corda
Per gentes, humilis flravit pavorj ille, flagranti
Aut Atho, aut Rhodopen, aut alta Ceraunia telo
Dejicic. Virg. Georg. I.

Simplicity and concifenefs, are never-fail-
ing charaderiftics of the flyle of a fublime writer.
He refts on the majefly of his fentiments, not
E e 4 , on

424 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

on the pomp of his expreffions. The main
fecret of being fublime, is to fay great things
in few, and in plain words : For every fuper-
fiuous decoration degrades a fublime idea. The
mind rifes and fvvells, when a lofty defcription
or fentimenc is prefented to it, in its native
form. But no fooner docs the p';et attempt to
fpread out this fentiment or defcription, and to
deck it round and round with glittering orna-
ments, than the mind begins to fall from its
high elevation j the tranfport is over j the beau-
tiful may remain, but the fublime is gone.
Hence tlie concife and fimple ftyle of Offian,
gives great advantage to his fublime conceptions j
and afTifts them in fcizing the imagination with
full power *,

Sublimity

* The noted faying of Julius Caefar, to the pilot in a
ftorm ; " Q^id times ? Caefarem vehis ;" is magnanimous
and fublime. Lucan, not fatisfied with this fimple concife~
ncfs, reiblvedto amplify and improve the thought. Obfervc,
how every time he twifts it round, it departs farther from th(;
fublime, till, at laR, it ends in tumid declamation.
Sperne niinas, inquit, Pelagi, ventoqiie furenti
Trade fmurn- Italiam, fi ccclo auftore, recufasj
IMe, pete. Sola tibi caufa hxc eft jufta timoris
Vcctorcm non nofle tuum ; quem numina nunquam
Deftituunt ; de quo male tunc fortuna meretur.
Cum poft vota venit ; mcdias perrumpe procellas
Tutcla fecure men. Cocli iile fretiquc,
pon piippis noitrir, labor cft» Hanc C.T^farc prefiam

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 425

Sublimity as belonging to fentiment, coin-
cides in a great meafure with magnanimity,
heroifm, and generofity of fentiment. What-
ever difcovers human nature in its greateft
elevation; whatever befpeaks a high effort of
foul i or fliews a mind fuperior to pleafures, to
dangers, and to death, forms what may be
called the moral or fcntimental fublime. For
this, OlTian is eminently diftinguiOied. No
poet maintains a higher tone of virtuous and
noble fentiment, throughout all his works. Par-
ticularly in all the fentiments of Fingal, there
is a grandeur and loftinefs proper to fvvell the
mind with the higheft ideas of human perfedlion.
Wherever he appears, we behold the hero. The
objeds which he purfues, are always truly
great j to bend the proud j to protect the in-
jured ; to defend his friends; to overcome his
enemies by generofity more than by force. A
portion of the fame fpirit a6luates all the other
heroes. Valour reigns j but it is a generous
valour, void of cruelty, animated by honour,
not by hatred. We behold no debafing pafTions

A fluflu defendit onus.
——Quid tanta ftragt paratur,
Ignoras ? Quaerit pelagi cocliquc tumuitu
C^id prseftet fortuoa mihi. — — —

Pharsal. V^ 578,

among

416 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

among Fingal's warriors ; no fpirit of avarice or
of infult; but a perpetual contention for fame 5
a defire of being diflinguiflied and remembered
for gallant ailions j a love of juftice j and a
zealous attachment to their friends and their
country. Such is the ftrain of fentiment in the
works of Ofllan.

IBuT the fublimity of moral fentiments, if
they wanted the foftening of the tender, would
be in hazard of giving a hard and 4liff air to
poetry. It is not enough to admire. Admi-
ration is a cold feeling, in comparifon of that
deep intereil, which the heart takes in tender
and pathetic fcenes j where, by a myfterious
attachment to the obje6ts of compaflion, we are
pleafed and delighted, even whilft we mourn.
With fcenes of this kind Offian abounds ; and
his high merit in thefe, is inconteftable. He
may {^e blamed for drawing tears too often from
our eyes J but that he has the power of com-
manding them, I believe no man, who has the
lead fenfibility, will queflion. The general
character of his poetry, is the heroic mixed with
the elegiac ftrain j admiration tempered with
pity. Ever fond of giving, as he exprefles it,
** the joy of grief,'* it is vifible, that on all
moving fubjedls, he delights to exert his genius j
and accordingly, never were there finer pathe-
tic

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN, 427

tic fituations, than what his works prefent. His
great art in managing them lies in giving vent
to the fimple and natural ennotions of the heart.
We meet with no exaggerated declamation j no
fubtile refinements on forrow j no fubftitution
of defcription in place of paffion. Offian felt
ftrongly himfelf j and the heart when uttering
its native language never fails, by powerful
fympathy, to afFccl the heart. A great variety
of examples might be produced. We need only
open the book to find them every where. What,
for inftance, can be moi-e moving, than the la-
mentations of Oithona, after her misfortune ?
Gaul, the Ion of Morni, her lover, ignorant of
what fhe had fufFered, comes to her refcue.
Their meeting is tender in the higheft degree.
He propofes to engage her foe, in fingle combat,
and gives her in charge what flie is to do, if he
himfelf Ihall fall. « And ihall the daughter of
«< Nuath live ?" fhe replied with a burfting figh.
*' Shall I live in Tromathon and the fon of
f« Morni low? My heart is not of that rockj
♦' nor my Ibul carelefs as that fea, which lifts
«« its blue waves to every wind, and rolls beneath
" the ftcrm. The blafl:, which Ihall lay thee low,
<f fhall fpread the branches of Oithona on earth.
" We Ihall wither together, fon of car-borne
" Morni ! The narrow houfe is pleafant to me;

'* and

428 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" and the grey done of the dead ; for never
" more will I leave thy rocks, fca-furrounded
*' Tromathon ! ■ Chief of Strumon, why
" cameft thou over the waves to Nuath's
** mournful daughter ? Why did not I pafs away
«' in fecret, like the flower of rhe rock, that
*' lifts its fair head unfcen, and ftrews its wi-
" thered leaves on the blafl. ? Why didfl: thou
" come, O Gaul ! to hear my departing figh ? —
*' O had I dwelt at Duvranna, in the bright
" beams of my fame ! Then had my years
" come on with joy ; and the virgins would
" blefs my fteps. But I fall in youth, fon of
*^ Morni, and my father fhall blufh in his
« hall."

OiTHONA mourns like a woman j in Cuthul-
Jin's exprefllons of grief after his defeat, we be-
hold the fentiments of a hero, generous but
defponding. The fituation is remarkably fine.
Cuthullin, rouzed from his cave, by the noife
of battle, fees Fingal viclorious in the field. He
is defcribed as kindling at the fight. " Ilis
^' hand js on the fvvord of his fathers i his red-
** rolling eyes on the foe. He thrice attempted
" to rufti to buttle ; and thrice did Connal ftop
" him j" fuggefting, that Fingal was routing
the foe J and that he ought not, by the Ihow of
il'pernucus aid, to deprive the king of any part

of

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 429

of the honour of a victory, which was owing to
him alone. Cuthullin yields to this generous
fentiment; but we fee it flinging him to the
heart with the fcnfe of his own difgrace. " Then,
*' Carril, go," replied the chief, " and greet
«' the king of Morven. When Lochlin falls
" away like a ftream after rain, and the noife
" of the battle is over, then be thy voice fweet
" in his ear, to praife the king of Iwords. Give
'* him the fword of Caithbat; for Cuthullin is
" v/orthy no more to life the arms of his
« fathers. But, O ye ghofts of the lonely
** Cromla! Ye fouls of chiefs that are no more!
" Be ye the companions of Cuthullin, and talk
'*' to him in the cave of his forrow. For never
" more Ihall I be renowned among the mighty
*' in the land. I am like a beam, that has Ihone :
*' Like a mift that has fled awayj when the
<' blaft of the morning came, and brightened
<' the Ihaggy fide of the hill. Connal ! talk of
" arms no more : Departed is my fame. My
'^ fighs fliall be on Cromla's wind ; till my foot-
'f fteps ceafe to be feen. And thou, white-
" bofomed Bragela ! mourn over the fall of my
" fame ; for vanquifhed, I will never return to
" thee, thou fun-beam of Dunfcaich !"

— -/Eftuat ingens

Uno in corde pudor, luftufque, &: confcia virtus.

Besides

430 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

Besides fuch extended pathetic fcenes,
OITian frequently pierces the heart by a fingle
unexpedled ftroke. When Ofcar fell in battle,
<f No father inourned his fon flain in youth 3
<« no brother, his brother of love i they fell
« without tears, for the chief of the people was
*' low." In the admirable interview of Heflor
with Andromache, in the fixth Iliad, the cir-
Cumdance of the child in his nurfe's arms, has
often been remarked, as adding much to the
tendernefs of the fcenc. In the following paf*
fage relating to the death of Cuthullin, tve find
d circumftance that muft ftrike the imagination
with ftill greater force. " And is the fon of
" Semo fallen ?" faid Carril with a fighi
'* Mournful are Tura's walls, and forrow
" dv/clis at Dunfcaich. Thy fpoufe is left
** alone in her youth ; the fon of thy love is
«* alone. He fhall come to Bragela, and afk
<* her why flie weeps. He fhall lift his eyes to
'* the v/all, and fee his father's fword. Whofe
" fwcrd is that ? he will fay ; and the foul of
** his mother is fad.'* Soon after Fingal had
ihewn all the grief of a father's heart for Ryno,
one of his fons, fallen in battle, he is callings
after his accuftomed manner, his fons to the
chafe, " Call," fays he, " Fillan and Ryno—
" But he is not here — My fon refts on the bed

« of

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 431

*« of death." — This unexpeded ftart of anguifii
is worthy of the higheft tragic poet.

If fhe come in, fhe'll fure fpeak to my wife —
My wife! — my wife — What wife ? — I have no

wife —
Oh infupportable ! Oh heavy hour !

Oihello, Aa 5. Scene 7.

The contrivance of the incident in both poefs
is fimiiar ; but the circumftances are varied with
judgment. Othello dwells upon the name of
wife, when it had fallen from him, with the'
confufion and horror of one tortured with guilt.
Fingal, with the dignity of a hero, corretHis
himfelf, and fupprefles his rifmg grief.

The contraft which Oflian frequently makes
between his prefent and his former flate, dif-
fufes over his whole poetry, a folcmn pathetic
air, which cannot fail to make imprefllon on
every heart. The conclufion of the fangs of
Selma, is particularly calculated for this pur-
pofe. Nothing can be more poetical and ten-
der, or can leave upon the mind, a ftronger,
and more affecting idea of the venerable ao-ed
bard. " Such were the words of the bards in
« the days of the fong; when the king heard
" the mufic of harps^ and the tales of other
*' times. The chiefs gathered from all their

« hills.

432 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION

" hills, and heard the lovely found. They
*' praifed the voice of Cona * j the firft among
*' a thoufand bards. But age is now on my
*' tongue, aftd my foul has failed. I hear,
*' fometimes, the ghofts of bards, and learn
" their pleafant fong. But memory fails on my
" mind ; I hear the call of years. They fay,
" as they pafs along j Why does OfTian fing ?
** Soon fhall he lie in the narrow houfe, and
*' no bard fhall raife his fame. Roll on, ye
" dark-brown years ! for ye bring no joy in
«* your courfe. Let the tomb open to Oflian,
" for his ftrength has failed. The fons of the
" fong are gone to reft. My voice remains,
" like a blaft, that roars lonely on a fea-fur-
'« rounded rock, after the winds are laid. The
'f dark mofs whiftles there, and the diftant ma-
" finer fees the waving trees."

Upon the whole ; if to feel ftrongly, and to
defcribe naturally, be the two chief ingredients
in poetical genius, Oflian muft, after fair exami-
nation, be held to polTefs that genius in a high
degree. The queftion is not, whether a few
improprieties may be pointed out in his works j
whether this, or that paflage, might not have
been worked up with more art and flvill, by
fome writer of happier times ? A thoufand fuch

* Offian laimfclf is poetically called Uie voice of Cona.

^ cold

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 433

cold and ffivolous criticifms, are altogether in-
decifive as to his genuine merit. But, has he
the fpirit, the fire, the infpiration of a poet ?
Does he utter the voice of nature ? Does he ele-
vate by his fentiments ? Does he intereft by
his defcriptions ? Does he paint to the
heart as well as to the fancy ? Does he make his
readers glow, and tremble, and weep ? Thefe
are the great chara(5teriftics of true poetry.
Where thefe are found, he m.ufl: be a minute
critic indeed, who can dwell upon flight dc-
fe<5ls. A few beauties of this high kind, tran-
fcend whole volumiCs of faultlefs mediocrity.
Uncouth and abrupt, Oflian may fometimes
appear by reafon of his concifenefs. But he is
fublime, he is pathetic, in an eminent degree.
If he has not the extenfive knowledge, the regular
dignity of narration, the fulnefs and accuracy
of defcription, which we find in Homer and
Virgil, yet in ftrength of imagination, in gran-
deur of fentiment, in native majefty of paflion,
he is fully their equal. If he flows not always
like a clear ft:ream, yet he breaks forth often
like a torrent of fire. Of art too, he is far from
being deftitute j and his imagination is remark-
able for delicacy as well as fl:rength. Seldom or
never is he either trifling or tedious; and if he
be thought too melancholy, yet he is always
YoL. II, F f moral..

434 A cRiTiCAL DISSERTATION

moral. Though his merit were iik other re-
fpeds much lefs than it is, this alone ought to
entitle him to high regard, that his writings are
remarkably favourable to virtue. They awake
the tendered fym.pathies, and infpire the mod
generous emotions. No reader can rife from
him, without being warmed with the fentiments
of humanity, virtue, and honour.

Though unacquainted with the original
language, there is no one but mull judge the
tranflation to deferve the higheft praife, on ac-
count of its beauty and elegance. Of its faith-
fulnefs and accuracy, I have been aflured by
perfons fkilkd in the Galic tongue, who, from
their youth, were acquainted with many of thefe
poems of Ofiian. To transfufe fuch fpirited and
fervid ideas from one language into another;
to tranflate literally, and yet with fuch a glow
of poetry J to keep alive lb much paffion, and
fupport fo much dignity ^throughout, is one of
the moft difficult works of genius, and proves
the tranflator to have been animated with no
fmall portion of Offian's fpirit.

The meaiured profe which he has employed,
poflTeires confiderable advantages above any fort
of verfification he could have chofcn. Whilft it
pleafes and fills the ear with a variety of har-
monious cadences, being, at the fame time>
5 freer

ON THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 435

freer from conftraint in the choice and arrange-
ment of words, it allows the fpirit of the original
to be exhibited with more juRnefs, force, and
fimplicity. Elegant however, and m.aderly as
Mr. Macpherfon's tranflation is, we mufl never
forget, whilft we read it, that we are putting
the merit of the original to a fevere teft. For*
we are examining a poet (tripped of his native
drefs: diverted of the harmony of his own num-
bers. We know how much grace and energy
the works of the Greek and Latin poets receive
from the charm of verfification in their original
languages. If then, deftitute of this advantage,
exhibited in a literal verfion, OlTian ftill has
power to pleafe as a poet ; and not to pleafe
only, but often to command, to tranfporr, to
melt the heart j we may very fafely infer, that
his produflions are the offspring of true and un-
common genius; and we may boldly affign him
a place among thofe, whofe works are to lalt
for ages.

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